Insumo: The Secret Heart
by Adrianna Dobhran
Summary: [ON HOLD] AU, ElizabethxJack. I am completely rewriting this story. Once it is complete I will repost it. Thank you for all your reviews, and encouragement!
1. Dark Man of the Sea

Disclaimers: I don't own anything, all belongs to Disney! What can I say; I just can't stay mad at Mickey. :)))

Summary: AU, ElizabethxJack. Elizabeth Swann dreams of freedom. Captain Jack Sparrow dreams of discovering one of the most sought after treasures of all time. Only catch is, they'll have to fall in love first.

Rating: Teen, but may be subject to change in later chapters.

A/N: According to my Latin dictionary, 'Insumo' means: to get one's wish, to obtain one's desire, etc. This story takes place after 'Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl'. I'll not be adding any spoilers with regards to the new sequel, because for the purpose of my story it won't happen. (If you haven't seen it yet though, it's really entertaining!) After getting home from the 12 am showing last night I just had to begin this story-- I hope you enjoy it. Please R&R!

**Insumo: The Secret Heart**

By: Adrianna

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_And God saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every imagination of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. And it repented the Lord that he had made man on the earth, and it grieved him at his heart. And the Lord said, I will destroy man whom I have created from the face of the earth; both man, and beast, and the creeping thing, and the fowls of the air; for it repenteth me that I have made them._

_- _Genesis

_In one day and one fatal night, there came mighty earthquakes and inundations that engulfed the warlike people..._

- Plato

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Prologue: Dark Man of the Sea

A golden sun bathed the Adriatic coast in warmth, catching the crystal clear blue waves and setting them on fire.

An old woman, her face cragged like the weather beaten rocks she stood upon closed her eyes, letting the ocean's energies wash over her. Soon its secrets would pound against the rocks, leaving scattered fragments of truths and messages...messages from those souls the sea had claimed for its own. A warm wind whipped about her face, causing the shawl she wore to billow around her bony shoulders. The old woman closed her eyes, and listened. Through the rush of wind and water, she heard the first rippling of whispered voices reach her experienced ears.

_We are here, humble one..._

She then raised her voice, singing the ancient words that would solidify her hold on the elusive underwater world.

_You, who have traveled far to reach us, we shall grant you one answer. Chose your question well..._

The old woman turned from the shining waves to face her foreign companion and awaited his response. The man couldn't help but shiver slightly at her wild appearance, the spirits now contained within her frail body giving her features an eerie awareness. He pulled himself to his full height. This was his one chance, and although a plethora of questions that had plagued him since youth abounded, only one made it past his lips. "I wish to know how to reach the city of Thêsea...if you please."

The old woman seemed to shiver, as if her skin were made of water itself. It took a moment before the man recognized the hollow sound she was emitting was laughter.

Interesting.

He hadn't thought ancient spirits had much of a sense of humor.

_The city of Thêsea...it is forbidden, mortal. It is the one answer we cannot give..._

The man held up a tentative hand. "I thought you might say that. Which is why I brought this..." reaching into his coat, he withdrew from an inside pocket what looked like a small, round box. Instantly, the old woman began to tremble violently, the spirits within her stirring with vigor. The man smiled, his expression like that of a cat who has just lapped up a bowl of cream. "Had a feeling you might be interested. Now...an exchange, then? You give me the answer I seek, and I shall deliver this..." and he held up the small box meaningfully, "...to you."

The old woman's eyes, the color of the palest sea water fixed on the man with the utmost intensity-- making him waver slightly as he held up his bargaining tool. He felt his body begin to grow cold, as if an unknown force were rushing through his muscles-- through his very veins.

_You are a man of many faces. You seek only what is beneficial to yourself-- yet your heart beats in time with our mother, our protector...we sense the sea in your very soul..._

The man's gaze suddenly became sharp, inscrutable.

"Then I shall pledge something of mine to you. Should you accept my offer, you give me the answer and I swear I will deliver this." He held up the box again. The spirits shimmered, thin blue wisps of color rising to the surface of the old woman's pale skin.

_And what is it you would offer us to ensure your loyalty...?_

"My soul." The man answered without the slightest trace of hesitation.

The old woman suddenly stepped towards him, her calloused fingers reaching out with startling speed. The man had no time to duck from her searching fingers as they caught his face and drew it down towards her.

_We accept your offer, reckless mortal...but heed our warning: the answer we will give you shall not be harnessed without trial. Only when you decipher our words within your heart will you possess the way to the city of Thêsea...and to do so you must garner the aid of she who knows the secrets of your heart..._

The man felt tension build within his temples, and as he tried to draw back he saw the old woman's eyes grow wide with urgency.

_She lies in the gilded cage of her ancestors. Free her, and you shall find us..._

The old woman's voice echoed within the man's head, the pressure of her hands on his skin too painful to bear. He cried out, just as the waves crashed against the shore below and the spirits retreated intotheir protective arms. The old woman slipped to the ground, empty of the energy which had allowed her to channel the ancient voices. She gasped for breath, her very bones shaking with the effort. Though weak, she raised her head to demand the promised payment for the use of her services. After all, she was only able to provide them once every twenty-years. Yet as she tried to gather what little strength she still possessed, she felt a new demon wash over her. The man was gone.

Even in her native Greek tongue, her rage translated into a widely known and familiar curse.

_Bloody pirates._

**TBC...!**

A/N: Let me know what you thought! I'll be posting more chapters soon. Merci!


	2. Woman in a Guilded Cage

Disclaimer: I don't own Pirates! I do own the three pirates I made up for the purpose of this chapter though! Arrr...

A/N: Thank you so much to all who reviewed and read the Epilogue! I just wanted to clarify; because this is 'AU: alternate universe', for the benefit of my story Elizabeth never broke off her engagement with Norrington-- and Will did not get the chance to tell her his feelings. Since this story takes place almost six months after the first movie, Elizabeth is just days away from marrying Norrington. As a woman of the time, it would have been very difficult for her to refuse the marriage-- and seeing as her father is growing older, she would have to secure a husband to ensure her safety for the future. Just a little bit of background information for those who think: if she didn't want to marry the guy, why didn't she just say so? Back then, marriage meant security. Because women couldn't inherit, marriage was the only way to make sure daughters would be provided for. Anywhos, thanks so much for reading and onto chapter two. Please R&R!

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_You have freedom when you're easy in your harness. _

Robert Frost

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Chapter Two: Woman in a Gilded Cage

Candlelight flickered tremulously across the piece of parchment, illuminating the inky words with a shudder. Governor Swann approached his daughter's writing desk hesitantly, as if he was terrified of what it might contain. Reaching out with a trembling hand, he picked up the thin sheet of stationary and read it.

_My dearest father, _

_I cannot pretend that what I am about to do is fair, or just. It is utterly selfish and without redemption, and for that I am truly sorry. You raised me perhaps too well-- and now I fear the life of marriage and obligation that awaits me will be too much for me to bear. _

_Please extend my sincerest apologies to Commodore Norrington; I do not deserve his kindness or his understanding. He is a good man, yet I cannot be his wife. __I have changed-- my life was changed by the trials I experienced. __I feel at last that I have found some sense of independence and freedom in this world and for that I know I must pay the consequences. Yet I cannot deny this instinct I have in my bones, in my very blood. _

_I long to sail on the seas again._

_Please do not follow me. I will send word when I make port. _

_Please do not resent me. I love you with all my heart, and it is my firm belief that one day I shall make you proud of me. Not as a wife, a daughter, a fine obedient lady-- but as me, your Elizabeth. __I beg you to understand, and accept my fondest wishes for your health and happiness. __Yours has been the example by which I judge all men. Your courage and kindness have given me the strength to pursue my heart's desire. _

_Thank you._

_Ever yours, _

_Elizabeth_

Governor Swann held a hand to his mouth, his eyes welling with tears of sorrow and worry.

'_Elizabeth...not again!'_ he thought with grief.

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The evening was bitterly cold, and the air smelled thick with moisture; there would be a storm tonight. The ships docked in Port Royal rocked gently like enormous giants being lulled to sleep by the sea's soothing cradle. Lights shone from dirty windows in the distance as a lone figure made their way deep into the heart of the harbor. Dusk was approaching rapidly, bathing the little port village in a rosy hue. Elizabeth pulled her long overcoat more tightly around her shoulders to guard against the chilly air. Although she wore men's clothing, she constantly had to remind herself not to walk like a woman.

Instead of the light, small steps she was so used to taking due to an over abundance of restrictive petticoats, wearing breeches and tall riding boots gave her much more freedom. For the first time in her life, Elizabeth Swann trudged; and loved it. She was pondering the many benefits of never again having to be strapped into a corset when she saw it; a poster tacked to the door of a small inn where she could hear the tinkling of glass and cutlery along with riotous laughter. She peered at the parchment curiously and read aloud to herself:

**WANTED!**

**Dead or Alive**

**For crimes against his Majesty and the Realm**

**Jack Sparrow**

**Alias: Jack Sparrow**

**Wanted for piracy and failure to appear before His Majesty's Court**

**REWARD: 50 £**

Elizabeth noted that the picture of Jack was most unflattering-- his hair looked like a crow's nest and his eyes bulged most indecently. Suddenly, the wind burst forth fiercely nearly tearing the poster off its peg. She raised her fingers to smooth out the notice so she could once again see the artists rendition of the infamous pirate's face.

Her heart gave a strange flutter.

Somewhere in the deep, uncharted corners of her mind she wondered if she'd ever see him again. He had been after all her first meeting with a pirate-- something she'd longed for ever since she had been a child. And Jack Sparrow certainly had not disappointed her. He was brash, sly, manipulative, slightly absurd--and at the same time she'd found him utterly fascinating. She remembered with a sudden flush of heat the way he'd gazed at her on the beach when they'd been marooned. His somewhat clumsy attempt to woo her although irking her royally at the time now seemed innocent and in an odd way somewhat sweet. He'd looked like a cat preening his whiskers as he'd eyed her eagerly, trying to persuade her that although he had the mouth of a cad, he had the heart of a poet.

Elizabeth hadn't been fooled.

And yet she had always retained his passionate words...

_What the Black Pearl really is..._

She remembered leaning closer to him, transfixed by the mysterious glimmer in his dark eyes which told her of countless wonder's he'd no doubt seen.

_...is freedom._

Elizabeth took a step back from the poster, her fingers slipping from Jack's distorted face. There was no use denying it-- his words had effected her profoundly that night. And here she was six months later, fleeing in the night from her marriage vows, renouncing everything she'd ever been taught... all for a taste of freedom.

Jack had warned her about her curiosity.

He had warned her how wild a temptation freedom was, it's thorns sharp and unmerciful. She knew he was speaking from experience; she remembered the scars and wounds that had never fully healed on his body vividly. Though propriety told her that when he'd removed his shirt he had been acting like a scoundrel, she knew it must have been a difficult decision for him. There she had been, a young girl who idolized his legend, and there he'd been showing her that he was no devil, no untouchable sinner-- he was a man of flesh and bone. A scarred man.

A tormented man.

Impulsively, she reached up and snatched the poster from its peg. She knew it wouldn't make a difference-- his poster was probably all over Port Royal. But it didn't stop her from trying. Trudging briskly away from the inn, she tucked the poster into her coat and scurried further into the port itself which wound its way along the ocean's edge ending where the high rocky cliffs began. The port was a maze of docks, and she trotted down one which would lead her to a few merchant ships she'd researched. The one she wished to gain employment on was called the _Fair Haven,_ a reputable merchant ship that sailed from the Caribbean all the way to the Indies. There, she would look for William Turner, her childhood friend. She had always regretted the way they had parted company-- and now she would rectify that as well as see the world. And perhaps she would even happen to stumble upon the ineffable Captain himself.

_We're a lot alike, you an' me, love..._

Elizabeth shook herself free of her memories as she saw three men approaching through the fog, their figures nothing more than shadows against the thick mist. The merchant ports were filled with livestock, and as she tread further the smell of goats, pigs and poultry assaulted her nose. They must be guarding the cargo. It wasn't unheard of for thieves to be bold enough to steal from His Majesty's ships. She assumed the three men must be deck hands, for everyone else was already drinking in the inn; only the most lowliest crewman was left outside to guard the ships. She waited until they were within hearing range before calling out gruffly:

"Oi! Where be the _Fair Haven_'s moor?"

Short, concise and bordering on rude. It was thrilling to depart so greatly from her usually elegant manners. As the they drew closer however, Elizabeth realized that perhaps she should have been more discerning. The three men strode side by side, their long over coats and leather boots covered in dried salt from the wind. All three had large cutlasses strapped to their belts, and all wore the unmistakable expression of men who were used to being feared; and encouraged it.

They were pirates.

Debating whether or not she should simply walk by them, pretending it hadn't been her that had made such a blunder in social etiquette, Elizabethfelther breath draw short as the men stopped just in front of her.

"Beggin' your pardon," the stoutest one said in a voice that sounded like rocks being crushed together, "but I'm assumin' yer either a soldier, or a simpleton. Either way, no one talks to Michael B. Rogers like that..." he leaned towards Elizabeth, his breath reeking of rum. "..and _lives_."

As if anticipating her escape, the two men on either side of Michael E. Rogers moved swiftly to catch Elizabeth's arms.

"Let me go!" she cried angrily, struggling to free herself. Suddenly, she felt her chin being yanked upwards, and a very wrinkled, sun beaten face leered down at her.

"Hmm, lads do ye know what I think we've found 'ere?"

"What Rogers?" a tall, thin man giggled manically. His eyes were large and very round, as if everything he saw startled him.

Elizabeth fought ashudder of revulsion as the dirty pirate swooped close to her and inhaled the scent of her skin brazenly.He draw back, gazing down at her in a way that made her wonder if he'd ever held a woman who _wasn't_ about to scream. As if reading her thoughts, he chuckled darkly.

"Now, now lil' _lamb, _we don't want to make a fuss. Thinkin' of stowin' away on one of these fine ships, were you? You should be thanking me for stopping you. The penalty should you be caught is death."

Elizabeth gasped in fear as the man whirled her about to face his comrades.

"Lookie lads!" and to her horror he whipped off her wide brimmed hat to reveal the top knot she'd pulled her long hair into. He grabbed it and tugged it lose, the act inciting a riot of curses and admiring leers from the other two men.

"Well, darlin' let me introduce you. That there be Edward," the tall man bowed mockingly, "..and that there be Freely. And you already know my name."

Whipping her about to face him, he gazed down at her with unbridled hunger.

"Now then fair maid, fer savin' yer life, what do you have for me?"

His crewmates guffawed, clearly amused. The pirate leaned towards her mouth, his grip on her shoulders like a vice. Anger bubbled within Elizabeth, coursing through her veins and settling on one thought: _Oh, did you pick the wrong maid tonight! _His mouth inches from hers, Elizabeth could smell his rancid breath. "How 'bout you come along with me, and I'll show ye how I like to be...appreciated?" His hands slipped from her arms to grab her waist.

Elizabeth released something akin to a growl as she reared back. Before the pirate could react, she gathered all her strength and threw her head forwards, headbutting him soundly. A dull crack echoed around them, and as Elizabeth's vision exploded into a riot of stars she felt the pirate's hold on her slacken. Taking the advantage she clenched her teeth against the pain bouncing around within her skull and drew her knee up into his groin. The pirate let go of her instantly, dropping to his knees and releasing a torrent of breathless, hissing curses. Stumbling back, Elizabeth tried to escape but found that she had misjudged how hard it actually was to execute a proper headbutt-- the result being that she swayed on the spot, her head throbbing and her vision blotted with red splotches.

Suddenly she felt someone grab her arm. Ready to turn and face her attackers she paused as she heard a clear, deep voice cut through the fog.

"Three against one, eh? Now that's what I'd call an unfair advantage, wouldn't you agree gents?"

The three pirates glanced up at this intruder, this voice that seemed to drip with a confidence that made their blood boil with ire...

...and saw a goat.

The three men blinked heavily. "Whut the--?" the tall one exclaimed, staring at the goat who bleated loudly. "Sweet Mary Merciful Lord--!" cried the one called Freely, who crossed himself dramatically. "I-It's possessed!"

"Don't be daft!" the Rogers cried, his cragged mouth splitting apart in a derisive scowl. "We know you're 'ere, who ever ye are." he rasped, his narrowed eyes searching the mounds of shadowed crates surrounding them. Elizabeth felt her pulse pounding in her ears as she searched the gloomy mist, but could see no one. But that voice...her mind scrambled painfully to keep conscious.

She knew that voice.

"Now why don't you show yourself?" Rogers was shouting. "I promise it'll be quick...just a--" and here, he motioned with his knife and cut an imaginary line across his throat. Suddenly, his ugly guttural sniggers were cut short; the tip of a sword pressed dangerously into his back. The stout man's eyes widened as he heard the cock of a pistol, it's muzzle pushed against the back of his head.

"Perhaps another time, mate." the voice replied from directly behind him, without a hint of sincerity. "Now, why don't you let _me _worry about the little lamb, eh? Tell them to let her go."

The tip of the blade cut into the man's back meaningfully.

"Let the lass go!" Rogers called out to his comrades, who neither could see nor hear his assailant from where they were standing.

"Oi, Rogers? Let 'er go? Whuts--?" Edward asked in surprise, noting his comrade's ashen face.

"Just do it ya sprogs!" Rogers spat through clenched teeth as the blade between his shoulder blades began to cut into his flesh painfully. Stunned, the two pirates released Elizabeth who stumbled against the crates of fish and poultry, her head still spinning.

"Clever lad." the voice behind Rogers purred. "Now, while we're here why don't I relieve you of your burden..." Rogers felt the sword tip move down to where his gold pouch was strapped to his belt. "Ye scurvy dog!" he snapped, not daring to move with the pistol muzzle still pressing into the back of his skull. "I think I'm the one with the sticks and stones mate," the voice said, and before Rogers could call out to his comrades the hilt of the pistol made sharp contact with the back of his head. Falling forwards in pain, he heard the slicing of leather as his belt was cut cleanly from his hips. "He's right 'ere! Get him!" Rogers bellowed at his cronies.

Elizabeth raised her throbbing head just in time to see the two pirates advance on her savior-- a man in a dark overcoat, with an equally dark beard and shock of long, untidy hair that stuck out defiantly from beneath his leather tri-corner hat. The man wielded his sword exuberantly in one hand, whilst brandishing his pistol on the other. Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. There was no mistaking that poise; it was Jack Sparrow. "_Jack_!" she cried, unthinking. Instantly his attention was drawn to her, and in that moment the three men pounced on the advantage. Forming a line they ran at Jack like a herd of wild elephants, hitting him square in the chest and sending him sprawling back into the pile of crates with a crash.

Elizabeth winced. "Oops..!" she whispered sheepishly, before noting Jack's pistol on the ground a few feet from her. Jack lifted himself from the rubble of broken wood and glass, his hat which had fallen over his eyes shielding his attackers from view. "Bloody 'ell," he groaned, feeling more than a few splinters and shards of glass biting into his flesh.

"Don't I know ye? 'Cause you look awfully familiar..." came the gruff, unpleasant voice of Michael Rogers. Jack reached out a hand and tipped his hat back artfully-- partly so as to show defiance in the face of defeat-- partly so he could see. "You'd be surprised how often I hear that, but I'm afraid I've never had the delight of your company before--" Jack halted, the fine point of a cutlass suddenly narrowed at his throat. Rogers glared down at him. "Aye, but I've seen _your_ face before. In Tortuga. You're acquainted with a lady there-- a lady by the name of Marguerite."

Jack gulped. "I think you've got the wrong man, mate--" he said, trying to inch away from the cutlass.

"Aye! Rogers, I know 'im! That's Jack Sparrow that is!" Smithy said excitedly, grinning as if he'd just won at charades. Jack frowned, as if the sound ofthe name offended him. "_Captain_..." he muttered indignantly. Rogers narrowed his eyes menacingly. "Is it now? Well, _Captain..._let me give you a personal message from Marguerite-- my _wife."_

Jacks eyes widened, a look of hastily crafted surprise on his face. "Wife? Well, how lovely eh? I wish you both fondest returns and blessings--"

" '_Blessings'_? Is that what they're callin' it now a days? Well, I'll be sure to tell 'er how you squealed for mercy, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow..." Rogers growled, pushing the blade against Jack's neck so that he winced in pain.

"Maybe I'll even bring 'er back yer head. I'm sure she'd appreciate a keep sake."

As the man's arm reared back, preparing to strike Jack winced, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. Yet instead of the sting of a blade, he heard the click of a pistol being cocked. Jack opened one eye-- it was Elizabeth. She stood a few feet from them, his pistol trained on Rogers back. "A lovely sentiment, but I'm afraid Captain Sparrow will be needing a good head on his shoulders," she said. "Let him go."

Growling in frustration, Rogers lowered his sword from Jack's throat. "Meddlesome wench!" he growled as Jack stood and dusted himself off. "Thankin' ye kindly!" he said quickly as he side-stepped the three livid pirates and sidled over to Elizabeth. Stepping behind her he lowered his head to murmur in her ear: "Looks like we've drawn even again, love. We really do have to stop meeting this way."

Elizabeth felt a slight shiver as his warm breath brushed past her ear.

"Now, what say we leave these urchins to their own devices and toddle on--"

"No. Why don't we teach them a lesson? How about we teach them never to attack another innocent woman again? I think I'd enjoy that," Elizabeth said brazenly, her anger boiling over. Her plan to board the _Fair Haven _had been ruined. How dare they interfere!

"Ye don't 'ave the guts, little _lamb," _Rogers sneered, advancing a step.

"Why don't we just let bygones be bygones, eh?" Jack said with increasing unease, his gaze flickering from Elizabeth to his pistol.

"Go ahead, little lass. I dare you," Rogers goaded. Elizabeth aimed for his right shoulder, and pulled the trigger. There was a meager click, followed by an uncomfortable silence.

"It isn't loaded!...?" Elizabeth ground out through gritted teeth.

"Have I mentioned how much I've missed your charming company?" Jack offered feebly.

"You can remind me later!" Elizabeth snapped, pushing the useless pistol into his hands and whipping about to escape the three pirates who were advancing towards them steadily. Jack threw a cringe over his shoulder before chasing after her.

"Oi...Elizabeth? W_aaaait_--!"

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She didn't stop running until she could no longer hear the stomping of boots and the shouting of curses. She could feel Jack right behind her, no doubt hoping to use her as a shield if necessary. As she ducked down into the thick foliage of ferns that grew rampantly beneath one of the large docks, she suddenly stopped. She heard a muffled cry of surprise from behind as Jack bumped into her. "Why'd you stop the escaping--?"

"_Shh_!" she hissed, listening for foot steps or voices. The rolling waves and the chirp of insects were a welcome sounds. "I think we've lost them," she whispered, cautiously looking around them once more. Ducking low she made her way further into the sharp ferns, until she was directly beneath the large dock. Beneath it's shelter, she straightened up and heaved a sigh of relief. Closing her eyes and listening to the calming refrain of the sea, she could almost believe that she had _not_ just been accosted by pirates and saved by a lecherous cad. Was there _anyone _in Port Royal whose honor Jack _hadn't _offended? Suddenly, Jacks frequent trips to the farthest corners of the globe made immenant sense. When she heard no movement behind her, she wondered if perhaps he had yet again slipped off into the horizon. Unfortunately before she could decided whether or not this disappointed her, the cad decided to speak in a dry tone that made her skin prickle with fury.

"I see I was right to check in on you. Have you ever considered taking up a more.. delicate diversion? Crochet, for example?"

Elizabeth grabbed a fist full of Jack's lapel and hauled him into the shelter of the dock.

"Easy, love--!"

"Are you mad...?" Elizabeth said, furious. Didn't he realize the danger he was in? Jack gave her a bemused look. "Was that a question...?"

"Never mind!" she snapped, releasing her hold on his lapels and reaching into her coat pocket. As she unbuttoned the overcoat to reach her pocket, she was too riled to notice the look of shock that crossed his face as he caught a glimpse of her neck. He remembered what the ancient spirits had whispered to him when he'd felt their cold consciousness searching his body and mind.

_A gilded cage...a mark upon her flesh..._

His gaze flickered from shock to determination as she with drew something from her pocket. But he wasn't looking at the paper she clutched. He was gazing, transfixed upon the prominent, round birth mark on her neck. Elizabeth slapped the poster against his chest, her eyes narrowed in consternation. Jack, brought back to himself by her abrupt action looked down at the paper.

"What's this?"

She didn't answer, but instead unfolded it to allow him to see it. Jack squinted appraisingly at the poster, muttering incoherently. "W...wa...f..majesty..." Elizabeth suddenly felt a surge of pity, her anger dissipating slightly. "Jack...you can't read, can you?"

If she hadn't known better, she would have sworn she saw his cheek bones turn pink beneath his dark skin. "What does it say?" he asked a little gruffly, averting his gaze to look out over the emerald green around them. Elizabeth read it aloud. Suddenly, it was snatched from her fingers.

"Oh my--not good!"

"I know!" Elizabeth said indignantly, "you must be mad to come back to Port Royal with the whole fleet looking for you!"

Jack waved a hand in the air dismissively, his gaze rooted to the poster and his expression aghast. "Is that _really _what I look like...?"

Elizabeth stared at him incredulously. "I just told you the whole fleet is out there right now looking for you, and all you care about is your _portrait?"_

Jack frowned, his mustache drawing downwards as well and accentuating the expression. "My nose isn't nearly that big. And what about my _teeth_?" he muttered to himself, baring his own teeth which flashed with gold, as if the poster were a mirror.

"Jack you have to leave, now before someone else recognizes you!"

"I can guarantee my safety if the poor sods have this to go by. By the by...what were _you_ doin' with it?"

Elizabeth's cheeks flushed. His voice had turned suddenly sly and curious. She knew that tone. It was the tone he used when he was asking a question he most likely already knew the answer to. "I..." she fumbled, andwithout warning he was suddenly very close to her. She could smell the salty spice of the sea wafting from him in waves.

"Where is your Commodore, Miss Swann? Or should I say, Lady Norrington?" he asked in a velvety tone, his eyes glinting with amusement. Elizabeth's temper flared at the insinuation. "It is Miss Swann, Captain Sparrow...and the nature of the relationship between the Commodore and myself is no one's business but our own!" Her words were sharp, but even still she felt his hand reach down and grasp her left hand. Unable to summon up the will to halt his ministrations, Elizabeth watched, betrayed by her own body as Jack cupped the hand in both of his and turned it over so that he could see her palm.

His eyes were focused completely on her palm, but Elizabeth found her gaze trapped on his face. He looked thinner, and there were more wrinkles that creased the corner of his eyes and mouth-- but his presence was still as captivating to her as ever. Jack made a little '_tut-tut'_ sound in the back of his throat as he traced his fingers across the scar left from when Barbossa had cut her hand. Her gaze dropped to where he was grazing his thumb across the pale scar in a slow, continuous movement. Elizabeth felt her heart beat quicken, her pulse fluttering beneath his fingertips. She was not aware that he was now watching her with a greedy hunger.

_...Only then will you possess the way to the city of Thêsea..._

His fingers were hypnotizing-- their warmth sending delicious shivers down her spine. She had been close with him before, but now as he leaned towards her she found herself utterly unprepared for his touch. "Jack...?" she whispered, hoping that he would be the one to come back to reason. She saw his lips part, and her eyes drifted shut...

...and suddenly she felt him blow something that smelled faintly like alcohol into her face. Coughing, she stepped back from him in shock. She felt his arms grab her shoulders but she struggled to get free-- her head was spinning, her vision darkening...what had he done to her? "Jack..!" she managed desperately, the frightened confusion in her voice causing him to feel a needle of regret. He grasped her tightly as her knees buckled and she sank to the ground. "W-what are you doing?" she asked, as her eyes drifted shut.

"Kidnapping you."

His face hovered over her for a moment, and then everything went black.

**TBC...!**

A/N: Thanks to everyone who read/reviewed chapter one! I hope this one didn't disappoint! I tried to get this one posted quickly, because I'm really enjoying writing it! I apologize if I get some of the details wrong, but I'm just having fun writing what ever comes to mind. Thanks again :))


	3. Letters and Numbers of The Heart

Disclaimer: Mickey owns all. Fear the Mickey. For tonight, he comes for _you_!

A/N: Big up-date! I've re-done this chapter, mainly because as I got to writing chapter four I realized some story wrinkles that I wanted to smooth out. One fact that I left out which I've now put back in is the fact that Jack gives Elizabeth the coordinates within her dream. This is important because in chapter one, we discover that the ancient spirits have encoded these coordinates within his heart...and to retrieve them he must enlist a woman who can see into his heart and discover them. So, to avoid confusion I've re-done this chapter so hopefully it will make more sense when you read chapter four. This one's much longer too! -breathes!- I hope you enjoy! Thanks again for taking the time to review!

I will probably be posting chapter four tonight! I'm working hard:)))

And now, the third chapter! (Again) I shall be silent! I promise. ;))) R&R, ye scallywags!

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_I see my mouth moving when I talk to you;  
I see my lips and I feel like a kid  
Who can't keep something hid... _

And if I am a sailor  
You are the warm gulf wind  
And you've blown into this little port

_And roused my dreams again..._

- Sarah Harmer

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Chapter Three: Letters and Numbers From the Heart

Elizabeth was warm. So deliciously warm.

For a moment she wondered if she was home, wrapped in the comfort of her bed and heated sheets. She wiggled experimentally, but found that whatever she was lying on, although certainly comfortable was much too firm to be her long lost bed. Perhaps it was her divan? Yes, that had to be it! She'd fallen asleep on the divan in the library again, probably after staying up late reading Antoine Galland's adventure epic _Arabian Nights. _This was dream, and soon she'd be surrounded by women dancing with shimmering veils and inhale the exotic scents of the Shah's crystalline palace. Indeed, there was something in the air that excited her-- that was making her skin tingle and the hairs on the back of her neck prickle. As she wiggled in anticipation, she experienced a very odd sensation...

The divan wiggled back, and slipped its arms around her. What was more, she could have sworn she heard it sigh, a deep contented sound that gave rise to more tingles along her skin.

Strange. She didn't remember her divan ever sighing before. Or hugging her, for that matter. Yet she could not dwell on these logical observations; every time her thoughts strayed from the comfort of her position they seemed to dwindle and be snuffed out. Ah well! She needed a nice, peaceful dream and it had been so long since she'd felt this content. Elizabeth sighed blissfully and nuzzled further into the divan's cushions-- but wait...they didn't feel like cushions...they felt like...

Elizabeth felt her curiosity stir, breaking the glass surface of her consciousness and sending ripples of questions through her hazy mind.

...they felt like skin. Bare skin. Without thinking, she rubbed her face against the bareness...and sniffed. Now she knew there was definitely something afoot.

Her divan smelt like Jack.

"Call me a hopeless romantic darling but I'd hoped for somethin' with a bit more bang."

Elizabeth froze, her nose pressed to what was now clearly Jack's right pectoral. His hand slipped down her back to cup her bottom.

"Although I am willing to negotiate..."

Elizabeth moved so quickly that she tripped over her long shift, and sprawled limbs flailing into the warm sand.

Sand...

She glanced around herself wildly, her eyes first taking in the dark sky scattered with stars, the blazing fire, the sandy beach...the glimmering ocean...and finally, the man himself. Jack was stretched out on the sand, leaning up on his elbows leisurely. His eyes twinkled in the firelight as he watched her with an amused expression. "Come now darling, don't tell me you didn't enjoy that," he said knowingly, his gold teeth glittering as he grinned.

"How are you-- why--this is the beach we escaped from after Barbossa marooned you," Elizabeth exclaimed, not noticing his attempt to mesmerize her with his charming wiles. Jack let his grin fall a little. "Marooned _us_, love. If I remember correctly, I was one step away from tucking Barbossa in my pocket before you decided to play the martyring maid--"

"Incredible..." Elizabeth said breathlessly, ignoring Jack. "Everything is so vibrant...the air, it smells like the sea, and ..."

"Rum," Jack finished proudly, suddenly producing a large bottle that was so big he had a hard time holding it with one hand. Elizabeth frowned. "If this is a dream, this must have been _before _I burned all the rum--" she thought aloud to herself. Jack's face paled, his expression frozen in horror. "You? Burn? _Rum_?" he managed disjointedly, clutching his rum bottle to his chest protectively. Elizabeth looked at him, suddenly feeling as though the comfy veil that had allowed her to remain deliriously calm was suddenly being ripped away. "Jack, why are you here in my dream? If this _is_ a dream, which it must be because I only dream about this beach in my dreams... and this has already happened, which means that this _must_ be a dream, and I'm simply having a dream in which I know it's a dream...right?"

Jack seemed to seriously consider her nonsensical babbles as if he were going to be asked to recite them later. When he finally spoke, his words were only slightly slurred.

"Unless I'm only in your dream because this is _your _dream, which means that contrary to your previous opinions on the matter the you who is dreaming wishes to be marooned on an island with the me who is also dreaming, or not dreaming-- but of course, this is only a dream so what do I know, eh?"

And with that, he lifted the rum bottle and toasted her.

Elizabeth scowled at him.

"Now I _know_ this isn't my dream," she muttered darkly. Jack's responded by quirking a questioning eyebrow as he took a generous swig of rum. "Why's that?" he asked afterwards, his voice thick as he swirled the liquor around in his mouth before swallowing loudly.

"Because in _my _dream, you are not drinking, you're not talking in riddles and you most definitely are _not _behaving like a scoundrel!"

"Are you sure you were dreaming of me?" he asked in all seriousness.

Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush. "In my dreams, you don't tease me either. We talk about the sea...you tell me about your adventures, and then..." she trailed off, feeling the heat seep into her skin as she blushed scarlet. She bowed her head, her long hair acting like a curtain.

But it was too late.

Jack sat up, his poise now dignified-- like a cat whose attention has just been caught by something curious--and patted the ground next to him, beckoning her to come and sit beside him. Elizabeth should have hesitated; after all, they were alone, he was drinking copious amounts of rum with his shirt half open and he had already grabbed her bottom. All of these warnings should have pointed stubbornly to one conclusion-- _he can't be trusted. _Yet confused as she was that Jack seemed to have taken over her dreams she found she couldn't resist his soundless request. Feeling the sand sink between her toes, she stood and made her way to where he sat. She didn't sit, but looked down at him stubbornly.

Jack tugged on the hem of her shift.

When she still didn't sit, he slipped his hand beneath the hem and grasped her bare ankle. He gave a deep chuckle as Elizabeth gasped, scandalized.

"So tell me darling. These dreams you have of me--"

"Dream!" Elizabeth interjected, hoping he would not notice her blush. "There was just one."

Jack's smile grew. Elizabeth felt her skin flush, feeling bare beneath his gaze.

"Dream, then. I don't tease you even though it amuses me heartily. We talk of the sea, and I tell you of the great adventures of Captain Jack Sparrow..."

His hand began to gently massage her ankle.

"...but what intrigues me is what you _didn't _say we do."

Elizabeth's knees felt wobbly, and she extracted her ankle from his grasp. He let her go, and kept his gaze trained on her face as she sank to the ground beside him. Drawing her knees up to her chest as he had done on the real island where they'd been marooned, she refused to look at him.

"What could we do to pass the time I wonder," Jack said with a suggestive grin.

Elizabeth leaned as far away from him as she could, trying to maintain a respectable distance. So much for wonton, dreamy inhibitions! Yet there was something about this place which told her it was not a dream, nor was it reality. It floated somewhere in the middle, a hidden plane between the two worlds of consciousness. Jack leaned towards her, brushing so closely she could feel the prickle of his mustache against her cheek.

"How about we do a trade-sie? I'll tell you what I think would happen, and you tell me what you think would happen. Savvy?" His voice was a deep rumble, heavy with something she could not name but that made her feel inexplicably hot...hot in places she dared not name aloud. Her lips parted, her throat suddenly parched in the wake of this sudden heat within her. Somehow, his hand had meandered from his lap to rest on her knee. His touch burned though her thin shift, and he splayed his fingers wide only to close them around her knee cap, swallowing it completely. She turned then, and looked at him. She couldn't help it-- it was as if he'd turned her face away from the shimmering sea to look at him instead. But he hadn't; he'd simply willed her to meet his gaze. Somehow, she knew he'd been silently commanding her.

Their mouths inches apart, she felt hypnotized by the shape of his lips.

"There's something I've been meaning to ask you," he said, his gaze dropping to her own lips.

"Do you trust me?" he murmured, his mouth open and his words warm and moist with emotion-- like the kiss he was dying to give her.

"Why..?" she asked softly, unsure of his question but responding to his caress despite herself.

"I asked first, love."

Elizabeth considered for a moment, and was surprised when the answer seemed to float unbidden to her lips.

"I feel safe with you," she whispered, her voice betraying the trembles that rippled through her body at his nearness...at his hand which kneaded against the flesh of her knee softly. He made a growling sound in the back of his throat, as if admonishing her.

"It's not the same thing, darling. But never fear. The next time you see ol' Jack you'll understand why I need you to trust me..."

Elizabeth watched with a mixture of confusion and curiosity as Jack gently took her hand in his, and lowered it to the sand. Pressing against her fingertip, he guided it along the sand, drawing out first a letter, then a number:

_W 26 52..._

Elizabeth watched as his hand guided hers, his touch warm yet the rings he wore on his fingers cool against her skin.

_...N E 25 36..._

Jack pulled her hand back. Elizabeth looked down at what Jack had drawn with her finger;

_W 26 52 N E 26 36._

"What does it mean?" Elizabeth began, a flurry of questions rising within her. Jack didn't reply. Instead, he raised her hand and brushed his lips across her knuckle.

"In case I don't get another chance..." he murmured in explanation, his expression one Elizabeth couldn't discern.

"I don't want to have any regrets when the time comes for me to square my debts..."

Elizabeth suddenly felt his touch growing lighter and his voice becoming distant, as if he were speaking to her over a great expanse.

"We don't have much time left, love. Will you trust me?"

"I...!" Elizabeth began, frightened at the significance of his question but not wanting to leave...

And yet she was. She could feel herself slipping from the dream world, the beach...she was tumbling backwards and as she did she could hear his voice calling out to her still.

"Say yes, love. Just say yes."

But she couldn't.

Her vision grew inky, bright pools of white suddenly springing up from behind her closed eyes. She felt as though she'd been pulled back into her body-- her body which was lying on a bed. Still in the throws of half-sleep, she moaned and tried to move her limbs. She ached all over.

"I think she's wakin' up!" she heard a voice say with apprehension.

"Then go and get the Captain! We have our orders!"

"Ooh, right!" the first voice said sheepishly. Elizabeth heard the pattering of boots and the closing of a door. Memories came swirling back to her as if someone had suddenly pulled a drain, letting them pour back into her head. The letter to her father-- she had run away and forsaken Commodore Norrington, and the respectable life he'd represented.

Rogers...

The three pirates who had attacked her.

Jack. He'd saved her, after being mistaken for a possessed goat.

And then...

Her eyes shot open.

Sitting bolt upright in the feathery bed she glanced around herself in a panic-- she recognized this room. The dark, mahogany walls and ceiling. The bright bay windows-- the cry of seagulls circling in the blue sky just outside them.

She was aboard the Black Pearl.

A pair of large, round eyes stuck on a rugged, bedraggled looking face appeared above her.

"Easy, poppet," came a gruff, sand papery voice that was as familiar as it was dreaded.

With a shriek, she reached for the first thing that came to hand-- which happened to be a rather large, leather bound book-- and threw it at the pirate who was sitting by her bedside. The man nearly toppled off his chair, and scrambled backwards to get away from her as she picked up another heavy volume menacingly. "Oi!" cried Pintel indignantly, before ducking as the volume flew past his head. Deciding to retreat and re-group, he dashed out the cabin door and banged it shut behind him. He looked around himself, hoping no one had seen his hasty escape.

"That'll do Mr. Pimple. I can take it from here."

Pintel twitched. "It's _Pintel_, Cap'n." he said with as much deference as he could muster.

The Captain of the Black Pearl waved his hand airily.

"Mr. Pommel, yes. As you were."

Pintel felt another book hit the closed door, and a muffled cry that sounded something akin to: _BloodypirateJackSparrowI'llgetevenIswearletmeGO!_

"Are you sure that's wise, Cap'n--?"

"Jack, are ye sure you shouldn't take this with you?" asked Mr. Gibbs, who had insisted on accompanying Jack. He held out his pistol. Jack looked from it to Gibbs, appalled.

"Need I remind you, gentleman, that _we _are the pirates and _that," _he pointed at his closed cabin door, "...is _one _woman?"

The one woman sounded like she was trying to smash the window of his cabin.

Jack ignored the ominous noises.

"Right. That'll be all." he said quickly, waving his hand expectantly. His crewmen glanced at each other, then at their Captain, then back to the door doubtfully.

"We'll just be.. eh.. around, should you and the lady need...refreshments," Gibbs offered, before he and Pintel, turned disappeared down the narrow passage.

"I was only doin' my duty. _She _was the one who wanted," muttered Pintel, and here he shivered, "_parle...!"_

Gibbs nodded, glancing back down the passage way at Jack, who seemed to be acting out a conversation with the still closed door.

"Aye. 'Tis a strange spell that comes over Jack where that lass is concerned. Best if we keep a close eye on it."

Pintel agreed.

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Jack paced.

He stopped, offered a courtly bow to the door, and then muttered to himself and began pacing again.

This was much trickier than he'd anticipated. Somehow, he had to convince Elizabeth that for the good of mankind, namely _his _kind, she had to help him retrieve the directions to the city of Thêsea-- directions that ancient spirits had encoded within his heart.

_Piece of cake, mate. Now she'll think your barmy **and **a scoundrel. Now, if only there were some way to convince her to understand my heart...oh, sods! I don't even know if I have one..._

Jack stopped his inner monologue and thumped a fist against his chest experimentally. "Oi! You in there...! Tell me the way to the lost city of Thêsea, you loathsome cad!"

Nothing.

_Hm. Maybe it only speaks to you if you're a woman--_

Jack stopped abruptly, and swept his arm aside as if clearing away his troubled thoughts. "That's it...! Jack ol' boy, that's it!" he murmured to himself, a slightly maniacal smile curling his lips. Twirling around to face the door again, he straightened the lapels of his over coat, and made sure the wilted lace of his cuffs was properly arranged. What he was about to do was madness.

Perhaps that's why he now congratulated himself on hatching such a brilliant plan. He remembered Will Turner's words to him as they'd attempted to commandeer the Dauntless: _This is either madness...or brilliance..._

'_Yes, dear William how right you are,' _Jack agreed whilst rubbing his hands together, the threads of his logic entwining beyond repair.

His unexpected detour to Port Royal after setting sail from the coast of _Emilia Romagna _off the Adriatic coast had surprised even himself. "But Cap'n! We only have four days to make it to safe harbor 'fore the gales!" Mr. Gibbs, his second in command had protested.

Jack had known this was true.

Going three days out of their way back to a port where their faces and descriptions decorated every tavern door-- it was madness. Yet when he consulted his compass, the arrow had resolutely pointed north west. Port Royal. Miss Elizabeth Swann...

He's barely set his boot down on solid ground before his body had taken him towards the village. Then, he'd seen her dressed like a lad and fighting the good fight. She'd been frightened. He'd especially admired her headbutt. Utterly charming. Slightly balmy, but charming. Seeing the birth mark on her neck had clinched it. He had to admit, he could have simply _asked _her to come back to the Pearl with him.

...But where was the piracy in that?

He allowed himself a small smile as he remembered the way she had gazed at him with worry and concern.

_Are you mad?...! You have the entire fleet out looking for you!_

Jack felt a swell of pride. He hadn't realized it could feel so satisfying to have someone truly care about what happened to him. Someone that wouldn't look at his death as an advantage, a blessing or a fortunate accident. Elizabeth could ensure that he need never want for anything again. With her by his side, he would find the lost city of Thêsea and live out his days on the sea as a free man...a terribly rich, free man.

Splendid.

Now all that was left was the asking part.

A thrill of determination shot through his body, and with the confidence of a man who has seen the underbelly of danger and laughed defiantly, he wrenched the cabin door open wide.

"Been pondering, love. What say you and I tie the knot, figuratively speaking that is--" he began with gusto.

His proposal was cut short however as a leather bound book hurtled straight for his head. Jack nimbly ducked behind the door again and banged it shut behind him.

_Oh bugger._

Cursing to himself, Jack listened at the door as the shuffling and banging ceased. Steeling himself, he opened the door a crack. "Am I to assume Sleeping Beauty has woken from her peaceful slumber?" he called through the door, trying to sound buoyant. He winced, hearing a loud _thunk! _as his favorite paper weight bounced off the door. "Ah. Well, I'll just pop back later then--"

"Come in." her voice called, muffled by the wood door.

Jack's hand hovered above the door handle, every finely tuned instinct he possessed advising him that if he entered the dragon's lair, he would be singed to a crisp. _Hell hath no fury, and all that. _Yet for reasons which baffled his exercised habits of self-preservation, Jack took a deep breath and took the plunge. The door creaked ominously as he opened it and peaked his head into the room. At first he was amazed (and relieved) at how unharmed his cabin looked. There were a few books scattered by the doorway, and as he picked his way over them he saw Elizabeth sitting at his writing desk calmly. Her head held high, she regarded him as if he were a guest she had invited for Sunday tea.

"Captain Sparrow," she greeted him imperiously, nodding her head with dignified formality.

Jack considered again why he'd refused the pistol. The look on her face was serene and cool-- a sign that either meant good things, or very bad ones.

"Miss Swann," he replied with a courtly bow.

There was an awkward pause.

"Fine weather we're having."

"Jack...?"

"Yes?"

"Did you just ask me to marry you?"

"In so many words...yes."

"I see."

Another pause.

"I won't demand an answer yet. Just give it a once over and then I'll make all the necessary arrangements."

"Arrangements...?" Elizabeth asked, her voice strangely vacant. Jack watched as she stood, and despite his complete confidence in his plan he felt a prickle of doubt. He watched her approach him, wearing the same breeches and tunic he'd seen her in the night before. He couldn't help but admire how vibrant she looked-- even more so than when he'd seen her six months ago at her engagement celebration. Despite the dire need for the Pearl to set sail post haste, Jack had lingered one day to sneak a peek at the blissful couple. Yet Elizabeth, radiant in her blush colored satin gown had looked anything but blissful. She kept glancing out the window, in the direction of the docks. Jack had wondered if she had been looking for black sails on the horizon.

"And did you 'arrange' to have those men attack me?" she asked calmly, her voice only accentuating his secret perusal of her. Her skin was pale, but glowed in the dusky light. He watched her draw even closer with eager anticipation; he'd waited a long time to see those eyes again. They flashed in the dim light, but he was too distracted with drinking in her features greedily to notice the rage that swirled within them.

"No, I didn't arrange that. I did however arrange a heroic rescue. Which reminds me... if I remember correctly I promised a certain lady I would expound upon how much I've missed her charming company--OW!" he cried out in pain as her fist made swift and brutal contact with the side of his nose. Stumbling back, a hand pressed to his face he gaped at her incredulously.

"You _hit_ me--!" he managed, his voice distorted as he clutched his rapidly swelling nose.

"You _kidnapped_ me!" Elizabeth bristled, her whole body trembling in anger.

After being attacked, kidnapped, and then trapped in the most disturbing and...provocative dream she'd ever had, to find that it truly _had _been the inscrutable Jack Sparrow behind her misery was more than she could bear. How _dare_ he...! And how dare he ask her to marry him!

"If it weren't for you I'd be half way to India by now! Free! Not betrothed against my will, not doomed to a life of isolation and regret-- free!"

"And who says you aren't as free with me as you would be in India?" Jack said loftily, rubbing at his nose experimentally and dusting off his dirt smeared over coat as if he'd just taken out the dust bins instead of trying to recover his dignity from the walloping wench.

"I do! I've traded one prison for another! Or are you trying to have me believe that you kidnapped me for the sole purpose of asking for my hand? I can assure you _Captain,_ there are many other ways of securing a woman's affections, but knocking her unconscious is _not _one of them!"

"But it did get you aboard," Jack countered stubbornly, realizing with slight anxiety that they were slowly inching their way closer with each angry word.

"How about flowers? Poetry? A bloody _limerick_! And since when have you been interested in marriage, _you _of all men!"

Jack put a hand to his chest, looking wounded. The surprising thing was, he actually felt wounded too. "My dear Elizabeth-- do you not trust my good intentions?"

Elizabeth opened her mouth to retort that no, she bloody well didn't when she stopped. A vague recollection swam up to the fore front of her mind-- and she recognized it's sweet longing immediately. Her dream.. the dream she'd experienced while under the effects of Jack's sleeping powder.

'_Do you trust me?'_

'_I feel safe with you.'_

'_It's not the same thing, darling. But never fear. The next time you see ol' Jack you'll understand why I need you to trust me...'_

Elizabeth suddenly felt very dizzy. She realized she was very close to Jack now, and unthinking she reached out to clutch his lapels as she steadied herself. Jack reached out immediately to assist her, and as his hands touched her shoulders lightly she was struck with a jolt of numbers and letters. They sprang into her mind unbidden:

_W 26 52...N E 25...36_

As she absorbed them she heard Jack's voice faintly calling to her.

"Lizzie?" he sounded concerned. Elizabeth smiled despite the disconcerting flashes she'd just seen. His voice was comforting. She'd never heard him call her 'Lizzie' before-- indeed no one ever had. She liked it. She looked up into his face and was startled to see that they were just inches apart. Jack's dark eyes narrowed on her face as if he were trying to see into her and discern the cause of her sudden discomfort. She was about to tell him of her strange experience-- the dream and the sudden rush of numbers and letters when he spoke.

"You wouldn't have made a good sailor, darling. So why wereyou trying to gain passage on a ship that goes half-way around the world...? What are you running away from..?"

Elizabeth stepped back from him, her temper flaring as the numbers and letters faded into the back of her mind.

"That is none of your concern--"

"Oh, but it _is_ my concern," he cut in smoothly, taking a tentative step towards her but making sure to keep an eye on her fists.

"It concerns me a great deal. Why would a most beloved daughter, the _Governor's _daughter no less be tryin' to make a break for it, I wonder..." he said ponderingly. Elizabeth felt her temper flare, his flippant manner making her want to try out her _left _hook.

"I was simply trying to avoid--"

"Ah-_hah_!" Jack cried loudly, waving a finger at her in triumph "so you _do_ admit you were escaping the confines of your gilded cage...?"

"Gilded cage...? Elizabeth repeated, her anger temporarily replaced with utter bewilderment. Jack didn't explain, but instead took her by the elbow and lead her back to the bed-- a bed she realized with a flutter in her stomach must be his. Helping her sit, he was surprised when she gave no protests. He thought of telling her of the old shaman's words-- the ancient spirits and their cryptic instructions, the deal he'd made with them. Perhaps if she knew the score, she'd be willing to help freely. Yet his tongue couldn't let well enough alone.

"Seeing as you are my captive, I shall refrain from asking you to marry me again until we are more suitably disposed."

His hands hovered over hers, as if he were unsure as to whether or not he dared touch them. Remembering his sore nose however, he rose from her and took a step back. "Is it me?" he couldn't help but ask.

"...No."

Jack paused, looking thoughtful.

"Is it Will...?"

Elizabeth stooped, and picked up a particularly heavy book. Jack made his exit, quite certain he'd worn out his welcome.

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Gibbs was striding down the passage way just in time to see the Captain rush from his cabin and shut the door quickly behind him.

"Troubles, Cap'n? Did she give you our headin' yet?"

"All in good time, Mr. Gibbs. I'm sure after a little nap she'll be right as rain," Jack said, the confidence in his voice completely at odds with his anxious expression. Gibbs looked doubtfully at the cabin door. He couldn't understand it. Why did Jack insist on bringing that lass aboard? She was clearly possessed. As a child, she'd always been too curious, too dogged for her own good. Gibbs remembered the way she'd insisted on accompanying him while he attended to his morning rounds--making sure the sails were trimmed, making sure every deck hand he out ranked was doing his part. The child had followed him like a shadow. It had made him uncomfortable to say the least. She constantly peppered him with questions-- why did the sails need to be trimmed? What was a rat line, and how come it didn't contain any rats? Had he been a pirate? Did he know any pirates? Why did his beard make him look like a walrus?

It had been endless.

The one thing Gibbs had appreciated was that the little girl was the only one on board who listened to his stories with rapt attention. He was surprised that she seemed to be absorbing his knowledge like a sponge-- it was flattering, but certainly not proper.

Certainly unnatural.

Gibbs shuddered at the thought of having to deal with her spirited moods yet again. For the past six months his life had been so quiet-- so peaceful. Well, there had been that spot of trouble with the old Greek hag conjuring up a tempest to drown them all like rats after Jack had skipped out on her payment. And then there had been the bit of bother with one of the craziest pirates ever to be banished from Spain-- a man known only as: _La Rosa de Muerte_. Jack had apparently stolen one of the Spanish privateer's most sacred possessions-- the result of which being that the frenzied Spaniard had chased the Pearl for four days and three nights...

...Until Jack found a detour, and lost them off the tip of Africa.

Never mind the detour that had lead to an enormous whirlpool.

Then Jack had insisted on taking time to slow the Pearl in order to give directions to some deranged Captain named Ahab. Coming out of his reverie, Gibbs saw Jack looking pensive. Never a good omen.

"That child's been trouble from the time she was yay high," Gibbs tried to convince him, raising his hand to reach just below his belt.

"I'm tellin' ye Jack-- if that child's got anythin' to do with what yer plan we'll all go to hell in a hand basket."

"My dear Gibbs," Jack said with a mysterious smile, a gesture that made the hairs on the old sailor's neck rise.

"That's precisely the point."

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Commodore James Norrington gazed scrupulously at the man sitting across the table from him. He'd had a bad feeling ever since he'd first laid eyes on the self-proclaimed _privateer. _A man who was banished from his own country and forced to make his life as a pirate for hire seemed a poor candidate for a rescue mission. Yet he'd had no choice. As upset as he'd been to learn that his fiancé had decided to take leave of her sanity and brave the un-chartered waters of the far East, he'd been furious to learn that she'd left Port Royal with the one man he loathed above all others: Jack Sparrow. His first instinct had been to give chase immediately upon acquiring this information from three men who called themselves 'Good Samaritans'. Norrington had asked the men to describe the circumstances surrounding the abduction-- yet all the men would say is that Jack Sparrow was sent from the devil himself in the form of a goat, to snatch the young lass just as they had been trying to see her safely home.

Norrington had given them their just reward for the information; shackles and a prison cell. Accommodations that he should have extended to Jack Sparrow when he'd had the chance.

Now, with rumblings of a war with the French being scattered throughout His Majesty's colonies, every Naval ship was bogged down in Port Royal, and under strict orders not to leave port until the danger of attack was over. And so here he was, a respected officer seeking help from a man who claimed to be a perfectly respectable privateer.Yet in actuality, hewas something much worse-- apirate with delusions of grandeur.

He could understand why he and Jack were enemies.

"I was given your name by a most reliable gentleman of His Majesty's Navy. I hope that my trust has not been mislaid." Norrington said at last, refusing the mug of ale that was placed between them. The man across the table from him grinned knowingly, his ornate laced sleeves spilling onto the table top as he reached for his ale.

"_Si, Comodoro. _I can bring you Captain Jack Starling."

"Sparrow..." corrected Norrington. The privateer took a experimental sip of the ale, and immediately made an _"Si, _the vexing villain who flies from one _desastre_ to another. I happen to know where he is headed at this very moment..." He looked from his ale mug to Norrington. "You english call _this _wine...?"

Norrington leant across the table, his voice dangerously low. "Here this: I am giving you this task because at present my hands are tied. I cannot leave Port Royal, and until I can I am forced to rely on your talents to hunt The Black Pearl down. If you should find them, I want Sparrow brought to _me, _alive."

"...And the beautiful _senorita?"_

Norrington gazed at the privateer coldly.

"If anything unfortunate should befall Miss Swann I shall make it my purpose in life to make sure you never see your homeland in one piece."

The man laughed at this, his voice rich and musical.

"_Comodoro, _you speak like a man who is, forgive me, inexperienced in love. Surely it has crossed your mind that the _senorita_ may not wish to come back."

"I do not care for your advice. I am offering you employment. Have we reached an accord?"

The privateer seemed to consider the Commodore for a moment, before reaching out a finely laced hand.

"_Si, Comodoro._ I shall catch your Sparrow; but I have one condition."

"Name it." Norrington said, already regretting his decision. The privateer leant across the table as well, his dark eyes flashing. "That I am given the Black Pearl, to dispose of as I see fit."

Norrington held out his hand. "Then we have reached an agreement."

The privateer smiled, the scar which cut across his smooth face giving his features an added wildness.

"Then I am at your service, _señor_. La Rosade Muerte is at your service."

**TBC...!**

A/N: Just as a point of interest, 1001 Arabian Nights was published in French between 1704 and 1717, and was the first European compellation of the Indian/Arabic stories featuring Scheherazade. For those of you unfamiliar with the tale, it is a collection of adventure stories told by a Queen to her insane husband who is about to execute her...yeesh. (If only Ann Boleyn had thought of that, although somehow I doubt it would have worked) ...and yet again I'm off working on chapter four, which I'll hopefully post tonight! I hope you liked the revisions! R&R please!


	4. Memories

Disclaimer: I own nothing; Disney is master of the universe.

A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed! I can't tell you how much I appreciate the encouragement!

I agree with those of you who said that sometimes it's the mystery that adds to the romance-- this is so true. It's much better to be suggestive. And Captain Jack is so suggestive!

Also, I wanted to say that in the second chapter I had Jack give the impression he couldn't read-- I'm glad people picked up on it, because it's going to be part of a plot twist-- remember, Jack isn't always truthful! ;)))

Just wanted to clarify again...this is AU (Alternate Universe-ish) so for the selfish purposes of Jack, (hee hee) Elizabeth never got a marriage proposal from Will-- she was all set to marry Norrington and Will never told her his feelings. Will's sailed away to somewhere in India, which is why she wanted to travel there on a merchant ship in chapter two. Unfortunately (or fortunately?) she was kidnapped by Jack first. I do like Will, and I think if it were possible Elizabeth should end up with both Jack _and _Will! After watching DMC again today with my sister, we had a long talk about who Elizabeth should end up with...what do you think? I think Disney will probably go with William, but you never know!

(Also, I re-edited chapter 3, so it's a little longer! I changed some things, and added some things so if you like please feel free to check it out before reading this!)

Chapter five should be out within the next couple of weeks!

Please R&R ! ;)))) Arrr..

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_Dreams are illustrations... from the book your soul is writing about you. _

- Marsha Norman

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Chapter Four: Memories

**S**he could smell something delicious-- roast duckling with honeyed apple, and steaming rice pudding with dates and raisins. Her mouth began to water, and she opened her eyes to admire the lovely feast before her. Yet something wasn't right. Just moments before she had been asleep...in Jack's feather bed.

She remembered slipping under the damp yet inviting blankets and letting her head sink into the down pillows. She'd been exhausted. After her confrontation with Jack, she'd refused to leave the Captains cabin-- which meant that Jack would have to spend the night below deck in a cramped cot. Satisfied that he would suffer suitably for the night, she'd then raided the books that lined the mahogany shelves and picked out a volume of interest: Shakespeare's _The Tempest_, a book that she had never read before. It surprised her to find so many volumes that looked worn from use; the pages were dog eared and inky notes could be found on nearly every page.

Mostly the notes were translations from one language to another, but some of them had additions and quotes that she could not recognize. She wondered briefly if the books had been owned by Barbossa-- since Jack had hinted to her in Port Royal that he couldn't read. It had been quite comfortable in Jack's bed, a nice coal brazier beneath the sheets to warm her toes. She'd dropped off almost immediately after finishing Act One of _The Tempest, _her mind filled the ethereal sound of rain, thunder and sorcerers chants. It was therefore quite a surprise to find herself now wide awake, and sitting in the Captain's dining quarters. Yet as soon as she realized where she was, she immediately grasped she must be caught in another dream-- for the man who sat directly across from her at the long table was non-other than the mutinous Barbossa himself.

Elizabeth froze-- her instincts flinching as she waited from him to acknowledge her unexpected presence.

"I'll hand it to ye Jack. Ye certainly know how to appeal to a gentleman's..." and he glanced greedily about the fine table, with it's mountains of fruit, duck and of course, apples.

"...better half," he finished in a tone which made it abundantly clear to Elizabeth that he was nogentleman at all.

"Well you are my second mate... mate. So I'll let you be the better half whilst I enjoy me'self." Elizabeth glanced at the head of the table, where a pair of dirty, salty boots were propped up on it's polished surface. Jack, a large silver goblet in hand, leaned his head back and hummed, his other hand conducting an invisible quartet. Barbossa reached across the table and plucked a plump green apple from the fruit horn which over flowed with exotic varieties. Elizabeth's heart skipped heavily as Barbossa took the apple, then looked straight at her. His face was smoother, and his beard fuller. He looked much younger than when she had last seen him (at which time she saw more of him than she ever wished to) yet she recognized the greedy glint forever present within his eye. He seemed to consider her for a moment, and then turned to regard Jack. "Looks like there be a gale brewin' afar," Barbossa said to the Captain, who was now yawning enthusiastically.

Elizabeth felt her muscles relax slightly--Barbossa couldn't see her. She glanced behind herself and looked out the large bay window, where a dark grey sky rumbled ominously. "Mmmm..." Jack drawled lazily, his head resting against the high back of his tall chair. It was ornately carved; a mahogany piece with waves that curled into arm rests and a gold embossed symbol that crowned the cushioned head rest. All in all, she rather thought it looked like a throne. She could see why Jack liked it.

"Perhaps then we should steer east to avoid any unpleasantness."

Barbossa's face darkened, and Elizabeth felt the familiar prickles of dread as she watched his expression carefully.

"But we be only fifty miles from the coast of the Isle de Muerte. Surely you don't want the men to have to wait any longer."

Elizabeth studied his eyes, and knew that he wasn't speaking of the men at all but of himself. With a jolt she realized that if Jack was sailing towards the Isle de Muerte with Barbossa, it meant she was witnessing something that had happened over ten years ago. It also meant that very soon Barbossa was going to betray him. Jack however, simply grinned at Barbossa as if he'd made a witty remark. "Always the better half, eh? Your concern for the crew is admirable, but let me ask you one thing, Barbossa: would you rather sail into the Isle de Muerte with your head held high, or drift there piece by piece?"

Barbossa, who had been picking at his apple gave Jack a calculated smile.

"Aye. I'll abide by ye, Jack. The last thing we want is to be marooned..." -- and Elizabeth couldn't help but detect the way he savored the word-- "...in the middle of no where."

"Ah, there's always a somewhere, Barbossa. Tell William to change course, and keep an eye on the skies. With any luck the Pearl will outrun the worst." Jack replied, slurring his words slightly. His face looked flushed-- and his eyes were unfocused.

He was drunk.

Elizabeth watched with growing agitation as Barbossa rose from the table, his posture strangely tense and staged.

"Aye, Captain..." he said, but the words held no reverence. A gush of ice cold foreboding swirled around Elizabeth, causing the hairs on her neck to rise and goose bumps to prickle her skin. Jack, seemingly unaware of his first mate's deceiving obedience settled back to his goblet, his humming off-tune as Barbossa left the table. Just as Barbossa reached the door, Elizabeth could contain herself no longer. Rising, she pointed dramatically at Barbossa and exclaimed: "You cannot let that man leave! He's a liar and a mutineer, and he plans on betraying you and taking the Black Pearl for himself!"

...silence triumphed, punctuated only by Jack's attempts to whistle.

"Sleep well, Captain." Barbossa called back over his shoulder, completely oblivious to Elizabeth's accusations. Jack gave a half mumble, half snort as his head lolled back against the chair's head rest. Elizabeth bristled in frustration. So _this _is what happened the night Jack was betrayed? He'd been _drunk!...?_ Elizabeth felt anger set her blood to boil. Dream or no dream, illusion or spell, it was intolerable. She glanced at Jack, whose chin now rested awkwardly on his chest. As the cabin door snapped shut and she heard Barbossa's heavy foot falls leading away down the passage, she quickly hopped over to Jack and bent down towards him.

He had to be warned!

He was the true Captain of the Black Pearl, the infamous pirate of legend!

He was clever, he was ...

...unconscious.

Elizabeth frowned down at him. His mouth hung slightly open, and his eyes were shut. The goblet he still held tipped dangerously in his relaxed grip, a dribble of red liquid spilling out and onto the carpet. Pulling back her lace sleeves Elizabeth reached out and grabbed fist fulls of Jack's loose tunic-- and shook him. "Wake! Up! Don't you understand!...? You! Marooned!" she exclaimed with each shake, desperate. She was so upset she didn't notice that one of Jack's eyes had popped open. Before she had the chance to give a proper cry of surprise, Elizabeth felt two arms wrap around her waist, hauling her unceremoniously into the Captain's lap.

"Thank heaven darling, I thought he'd never leave..."

And with that, he grabbed the back of her head and crushed his mouth to hers.

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**T**he Spanish ship _La Rosa _crawled along like an elegant, sleek cat keeping just enough distance between it and its prey so as not to arise suspicion. The Captain of the _La Rosa,_ or _Rose _stood on the quarterdeck, his dark eyes fixed on the horizon. It had been days since he'd caught sigh of the black ship, yet he was comforted by the knowledge that it was lurking just beyond his reach...

The Black Pearl.

For two days he had kept his distance, patiently following the Pearl's beautifully crafted stern. Now they were but a short distance from the island where, if he knew his enemy, Captain Jack Sparrow would be mooring. If the winds kept up, The _La Rosa_would arrive on the Eastern coast of the little island first. There, they would await the arrival of the Pearl. His initial plan had been to simply hunt down the Pearl and dangle her wily Captain off the prow until he begged for mercy and a few hygienic tips.

Of course, he would also get even with the Englishman for stealing the map of _Secretos,_ a treasure that had been in his family for generations. What the fool intended to do with the map he still could not fathom, yet it was not a slight he could let go unpunished.

Honor, above all else.

Honor...and women.

Which reminded him, on that particular subject it would seem the wind of fortune had shifted in his favor. Since the generous offer made by the Commodore Norrington stipulated that he was to bring back the Pearl's crew alive, it would seem that he was now on the way to claiming four prizes: his map, the Black Pearl, his commission, and with a little persuasion perhaps the enchanting _senorita_ as well.

What better vengeance was there than the sting of jealousy?

Jack, although immune to that fortune which should have seen him annihilated countless times before was not impervious to its poison. The Captain of the _La Rosa _smiled. It had been four long months since he had laid eyes on Jack Sparrow.

He would be sure to give him a proper welcome.

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**E**lizabeth shot up from a tangle of soft sheets, her body damp with sweat. The warm phantom pressure of Jack's mouth still tingled against her lips, and she raised a hand to touch them. They felt swollen, and as she tried to gain some semblance of reality one thought kept spiraling through her body.

'_I want to kiss Jack. Must kiss...Jack!' _

Her whole body felt like it was on fire. Desperately, she flung herself down on the bed and buried her face in the soft pillows, giving a muffled cry of frustration. Here she was, captured by a man who'd sooner pilfer the local church box than show an ounce of honesty, and yet she couldn't stop dreaming of him...and his mouth. His mouth which did sordid, improper things to her, whether he be touching her or merely speaking with his silver tongue. She took a deep, calming breath-- and shivered as she realized that the pillows smelled intensely of Jack. Elizabeth growled. This was madness. _Marry_ Jack Sparrow...? It was impossible..._he_ was impossible! There were a million reasons why she shouldn't:

He was mad, for one.

He'd lied to her from the moment he had met her.

He never bathed.

He had a strange habit of getting himself almost killed.

He was vainglorious.

He was a rogue, a bounder...a pirate.

Elizabeth sat up in Jack's bed, and hugged one of his pillows close to her chest, a feeling of intense tenderness washing over her as she remembered the way he had touched her in her vivid dreams. She let her face fall back to the pillow, allowing Jack's familiar scent to thrill her once more. It couldn't hurt to indulge just a little...could it? '_Yes, it bloody well can!' _her better judgment ranted, pointing out that on no uncertain terms, Jack Sparrow was last man on earth she should _ever _wish to marry. Then why had her heart wanted to say yes?

Carried away by a childish, frustrated impulse, Elizabeth hurled the pillow across the room with a little war-like cry. _Take that, Captain Sparrow! _Breathing heavily, the image of his shocked expression when she had struck him floated before her memory. Guilt welled up within her chest, causing unwanted tears to prick the back of her eyes. She'd seen it clearly-- an emotion she hadn't thought him capable of. Hurt. Wiping at her eyes, Elizabeth chided herself for being so irrational. She didn't just want Jack to kiss her-- she wanted him to be honest with her-- about everything.

Despite her pride and strict upbringing which maintained: _a lady should always keep her temper. A lady never shouts, nor yells. A lady is patient-- _Elizabeth buried her head in her hands and swore. Loudly. She wasn't even sure what the word meant-- but it sounded angry and vile and that's exactly how she was feeling at the moment. Compared to being trapped aboard a ship crewed by the mad, and Captained by a man so barmy he defies the laws of reason, life as a peaceful domestic suddenly sounded tempting. She remembered what Norrington had told her the day he decided to let Jack have a day's head start out of Port Royal:

_My dear there are no more than five active pirate ships left in the Caribbean; Captain Sparrow's age of piracy is almost at an end. Desperate men do desperate things..._

Elizabeth lifted her head and rested her chin in her palm, struck by a sudden thought. Jack certainly had seemed desperate. But for what? Surely he had not kidnapped her in order to offer her that terribly gauche proposal of marriage. No, she knew Jack's temperament well enough to know that his proposal had been very much a last desperate attempt. An attempt at what, she had no clue.

She had never pegged him for a petty kidnapper, willing to shed blood and misery for ransom. She refused to believe him capable of such a heartless crime. Under-handed and treacherous, most likely. Vile and cruel...never. But if not for her father's money, then what...? Suddenly, a wave of understanding crashed down upon her questions, scattering them to the wind. Her breath caught in her throat--

_W 26 52...N E 25...36_

Her dream...The numbers and letters Jack had made her write in the sand; she recognized what they were now. They were directions. Points on a map...a heading. How could she have not realized before? She remembered vividly watching Norrington plot patrol routes when he had allowed her to attend one of his many briefings. It had been highly irregular, and she had endured glares and indignant snorts of-- _a woman in His Majesty's court? _Elizabeth had been livid. "But it is _not _a court! These are matters which concern every citizen of Port Royal, and since you are a Commodore why should they care if I attend?" she had argued, ignoring Norrington's weary and harassed expression.

"Elizabeth...you do not understand that these men are not just my superiors-- they speak for the King himself. You must accept that you cannot take part in everything that catches your fancy--"

" 'Catches my fancy'...? Tell me, if I paid the tax required to wear a wig that would rival that of the King himself-- would they be more inclined to let me attend?"

Norrington had looked at her patiently.

"This is not about money, Elizabeth. It is about.. Propriety. What a lady can do, and what she cannot. I am truly sorry that this aggrieves you..."

Elizabeth had simply bowed her head, her hands twisting the ribbons of her delicate lace fan. Her eyes stung with hot, frustrated tears. Norrington hesitantly placed his hand on top of hers, and she tried to smile. She knew it wasn't his fault-- yet the fact that he seemed to _accept _everything, just the way it was-- infuriated her. She had known that Norrington was a man of ambition and purpose. He hated feeling idle and useless. Why couldn't he understand that she shared that same conviction as well? She had tried to convince herself that in marrying Norrington she was making the proper choice. Indeed she figured she had little choice-- she could not inherit, and her father was worried beyond belief for her future.

"I want to see you provided for, Elizabeth." he'd said anxiously, his kind eyes imploring her to be reasonable.

So she had smiled, and kept back the tears that seemed to build in force each day the marriage drew nearer. The night of their engagement celebration, Elizabeth had spent most of the evening trying to summon up convincing greetings and appropriate responses to the endless stream of congratulations. One of her father's old acquaintances had approached her while she had been gazing out the large bay window which afforded a clear view of the shining Caribbean Sea.

"You look as though you've lost something my dear," the old lady had said kindly. Elizabeth reassured her that she was having a wonderful time. She spoke with the lady about her up coming marriage, enjoying the woman's company. She was genteel, well spoken and impeccably dressed in blue satin and lace. She held herself with a regal dignity that was soaked in femininity, making her stand out in the crowd like a floral perfume that lingers in a room. How much Elizabeth admired her.

"May I ask you a question, Lady Wardley?" Elizabeth had asked the old lady, after a comfortable silence passed between them. The old lady nodded after a moment's pause-- no doubt curious as to what the young woman could want to ask. "Yes, of course my dear."

Elizabeth fiddled with the satin ribbons of her dress-- a habit that her father had tried countless times to break her of. "Do you think you made the right choice in coming to Port Royal? That is to say, are you happy here?"

Lady Wardley frowned; it was not a displeased gesture but rather an expression that conveyed concern and thoughtfulness. After a moment, the pluck of violins and the thrum of cellos filling the silence between them, she spoke softly. "I came to the new world in the hope that I might distance myself from everything I'd known in England. The promise of a new life is a very powerful lure, Miss Swann. One must be careful that they do not lose sight of what they were-- lest they become something they regret."

Yet Elizabeth didn't regret her decision to flee her father's estate. Guilt, mixed with willfulness was like a fuel in her blood, driving her to keep running, to keep moving further and further from what everyone expected of her. And Jack...

Jack had never expected a thing.

He had always treated her like an equal. Granted he tended to treat everyone in the same absent minded manner-- as if his mind was constantly somewhere else and his sea faring body was left to sway on the spot as it tried to catch up. Despite herself, a small smile bloomed on her lips.

"_You forgot one important thing mate; I'm Captain Jack Sparrow..."_

A swell of exhilaration swirled within her, his confident declaration tattooed on her memory. She knew it sounded quite bold, but somehow she'd always known his insistence that everyone know his name ran deeper than vanity. It was a tenacious cry to be remembered-- to be remembered as a free man. Elizabeth swung her legs over the side of the bed and stood wobbling for a moment as the Pearl's deck lurched beneath her. She still hadn't gotten her sea legs, and not wanting to sit back down on the bed where she knew Jack's presence lingered she made her way over to the writing desk and plopped down in the chair. The desk was a beautiful piece made of cherry wood which boasted carvings of seashells and mermaids. The mermaids, their arms outstretched seemed to beckon her. She let her fingertips travel over their cherub-like faces.

There was an ink bottle and quill placed across a stack of parchment-- and Elizabeth, overcome with a sudden urge took a sheet and picked up the quill. Dipping it carefully, she wrote out the plot points which still swirled around her head. Perhaps if she could find out where they led...

'_You could tell Jack about them...' _her mind suggested, and no sooner had she finished writing the coordinates down than she was struck by a disturbing thought. As of yet, she had no way of proving her suspicions but somehow she had a feeling she was right. What if Jack needed those coordinates? She looked down at her large, messy handwriting and wondered. It was a strange idea. Just because she'd had a very realistic dream and been struck with a couple of possibly meaningless headings that didn't mean Jack had anything to do with it. Still wondering if she should confront him with the question, she folded up the bit of parchment she'd written the heading on and tucked it into down the bodice of her gown.

She'd been forced to change when the comfortable clothing she'd been wearing began to become too fragrant-- it had been a couple of days at least since she'd been able to have a proper wash and _toilette. _The gown she wore now was made of light cotton, and was a style in which she could slip on over her head. It was still tight around her middle, but she had been eternally grateful that it didn't have buttons or laces-- she could not imagine a worse humiliation than having to ask one of Jack's crew to help lace her up. Surprisingly, Pintel, the crotchety pirate who had originally taken her to Barbossa six months earlier seemed to be going out of his way to be kind to her. He'd brought dinner to her the night before, and even asked if she would like him to sing her a chantey while she ate. She'd agreed, partly so as not to hurt his feelings and partly because he had a habit of inventing very amusing lyrics when he couldn't remember the real ones.

Elizabeth grinned to herself, remembering one such variation:

_Whiskey is the life of man  
Whiskey, O, Johnny, O  
I'll drink whiskey when I can..._

Unfortunately, he couldn't seem to remember the second verse (in which he was supposed to repeat the first), so he sang:

_I like whiskey better than ham_

_Whiskey, O, Johnny, O_

_I'll drink whiskey in a pan..._

It had been quite entertaining.

Still smiling, Elizabeth was about to rise from the desk when something caught her eye; it was her name. She sat back down, her hand reaching for the crumpled parchment from which she could clearly see the heading: _Dear Elizabeth..._

Her first thought was that the paper must belong to Jack-- she was sitting at his desk after all. Yet hadn't he been unable to read the wanted poster when she'd showed it to him not two days ago? The though that he'd lied to her yet again caused her to frown, but her initial anger was replaced by an interesting question: why had he lied to her about something so harmless...what was he trying to hide? Curious beyond the point of reproaching herself for snooping, she uncrumpled the parchment quickly and smoothed it out on the desk. Her heart caught in her throat.

There was no date, and it read:

_Dearest_ (this had been scratched out, she noted)

_Loveliest _(this greeting had been scratched out as well)

_Dear Elizabeth, _

_I hope you do not think me presumptuous in addressing you as such, yet if you do I should heartily agree with you. __I am a very presumptuous man. __Blame it on a life unspoiled by the restrictions of a society that would rather see a man hang than see his worth. __Yet you have always indulged my grandeur, have you not? __And I have always seen more worth in my life than is perhaps warranted._

_In case you are now paying attention to your lip in consternation (as you oft do when you are thoughtful) ---_

...and here Elizabeth stopped biting her lip immediately. She continued to read the letter feverishly, he heart pounding heavily against the confines of her bodice.

_...let me put your mind at ease. These are not the ramblings of a man mired in the depths of his own inadequacy; I will not send you a sonnet, or pester you with the sweet nature of my suffering. __This is my goodbye. My only goodbye._

_For some time now I have been plagued with the knowledge that despite my best efforts I have fallen victim to that which all men of my calling are loathe--regret. __Although I would very much like to blame your fair charms for this lapse of mine, I find I cannot summon the gall to resent you. On the contrary, I can find nothing but admiration for your bravery, your spirit. __I have thought of little else since we cast off from your port. _

_Troubling? Quite. __Theory? I have many. _

_But rest assured love; I am quite resigned to your marriage and wish you my sincerest wishes for your health and happiness... and for that of your betrothed as well, if I must. __Know only that you have crafted an admirer out of the most ill matter and that I shall give you this one promise: that I, being selfish and rash in nature will give you Elizabeth, who is valiant and also oh, so rash one kiss..._

Elizabeth breathed.

She hadn't been aware that she'd been holding her breath until her throat had begun to burn painfully. The letter had ended abruptly with that declaration: _one kiss_. There, the smooth elegant script became cramped and chaotic, as if the writer had been transferring his conflictions onto the paper. Her mind spun, unraveling the doubts and questions she had been cataloguing. Before she could dwell on any, there was a knock at the door and she jumped. Instinctively she stuffed the crumpled paper into her bodice and rested a protective hand over it. Pintel stuck his head in, his eyes blood shot and his voice dryer than usual. He must have had a long night in the crow's nest.

"The Captain wishes to see you on the quarterdeck, milady," he croaked, sounding forlorn.

Elizabeth, her hand still pressed to her bodice nodded.

'_We'll see if you truly are made of such ill matter, Captain Sparrow...' _she thought. '_But I have faith...'_

**TBC...!**

A/N: Eeeep! Thanks so much for reading! I hope you liked, and that you'll stay tuned for chapter five which should be out within the next few weeks. Thanks ;))))) !


	5. Interrogations

Disclaimer: I don't own PotC, but someday I hope to go on the ride at Disney Land!

A/N: So sorry about the hiatus-- this month has been very hard both physically and emotionally. Thank you so much for reading and reviewing, I'm overwhelmed and very appreciative of all the support everyone has given. ;)))))

So I'm writing like a madwoman, and hopefully the next few chapters will be done within the next month! Please R&R!

Dedication: For my sister, who swoons every time Orlando or Johnny says her name during the movie: _Elizabeth! _

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_We dance around in a ring and suppose_

_While the secret sits in the middle and knows..._

_- _Robert Frost

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Chapter Five: Interrogations

**E**lizabeth prided herself on being entirely without temptation when it came to gossip.

Perhaps this was the reason she never truly felt as though she fit in with other women her age. They were constantly pouring forth endless streams and trickles of half-whispered rumors and admissions that were passed down like precious pearls.

It was ridiculous.

What did it really matter if Lady what's-it's gown was _not _handcrafted in Italy as she had claimed? Or if Lord who's-it's mistress had in a fit of jealousy threatened to end his days of romping by the tip of a pen knife? It was utterly sordid and vile...! Elizabeth had learned at a very young age to tune such talk down to a mere undercurrent, while within her own mind she roamed freely amongst the meadows of her imagination. Talking with her father's contemporaries had always been much more interesting-- that was until she had reached an age where they found her inquisitiveness improper rather than whimsical.

Still, all indignant feelings aside Elizabeth found herself astonished at how much a pirate ship was like a ladies parlor; gossip onboard the Black Pearl was as frequent as the lapping of waves breaking against it's hull. She hadn't meant to over hear them, really. It had been bad timing was all, and now she was going to turn on her heel and march on deck to confront Captain Sparrow as to his true intentions towards her, and her freedom...

...really, she was. Elizabeth pressed herself against the smooth wood that hid her from the sight of the two crew men who were talking in low whispers to each other.

"I'm tellin, ye _that's_ what I's heard!"

"Naaaaaw...are you sure that's what the Captain said?"

"Cross me heart and hope to--"

"Shhh! Alright, I believe ye! No need to get dramatic. What do ye think it means, what the Captain said to Gibbs?"

There was a pause, and Elizabeth found herself leaning dangerously towards the hushed voices to hear more. She saw Pintel give a slight shudder, and then make a complex serious of gestures she recognized as acts to ward off bad fortune.

"I dunno. But I'll tell ye one thing-- there be a reason d'Captain won't tell us where we're going-- or give a proper heading. And I think..."

Ragetti seemed to tremble all over, his wooden eye squeaking anxiously.

"I think it has to do wiff the poppet, and t' compass he always attends to. Mark my words, there's something foul on the wind, and we'd best be keepin' our own interests..." and here, he tapped his chest with a dirty finger meaningfully, "...at heart."

Elizabeth drew back, and leaned against the cool wall and trying to slow the beating of her pulse. She heard Ragetti make little noises of agreement before she made to creep back the way she had come. Unfortunately, this was not her home in Port Royal, and the Pearl was not about to let her presence go undetected. A low, loud groan radiated up through the floor as her weight made the boards creak.

Elizabeth squeezed her eyes shut and waited, paralyzed.

"Shh!" she heard Pintel growl, and for an agonizing moment she considered just how she could manage to make them believe she was a very ornate wall sconce.

"I heard somethin'..." Pintel said darkly, and Elizabeth felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise at the familiar ire in his tone. Even though their relationship had improved considerably since she'd last been aboard the Pearl she still did not wish to cross him in a dark, abandoned hallway. Her heart beat like a blacksmith's hammer in her throat, and she clapped a hand to her mouth to mute the sound of her uneven breaths.

"Must have been a little mouse," Ragetti giggled nervously, and Elizabeth let her muscles relax a little.

"A mouse...or a big rat." Pintel muttered meaningfully, and to Elizabeth's alarm she heard the two men rise and begin to shuffle over to where she was just hidden around the corner.

Without a second thought Elizabeth bolted back down the hallway, and tugged open the first open door she came to. Whipping inside, she shut it quietly and pressed her ear against the wood. "I guess it was a mouse," she heard Pintel say, although he still sounded suspicious. Breathing a sigh of relief, Elizabeth had little time to enjoy her escape-- for snippets of the conversation she'd just over heard came back to her in a swirled frenzy.

"_...but it has to do with the poppet, and the compass he always attends to..."_

Elizabeth frowned, biting her lip in thought. From what she knew about Jack Sparrow, he never was one to keep things hidden from his crew. He knew better than anyone how that kind of distinction between Captain and crew could cause resentment-- and more something much more sinister-- mutiny.

What was he hiding...?

Then she remembered Pintel had also mentioned the compass- which had in turn reminded her of the odd relationship Jack seemed to have formed with it. From the moment she'd met him, he'd always been extremely possessive of three articles; his pistol, his hat...and his compass. The pistol she understood. It represented Barbossa, and the revenge Jack sought against him. The hat... well, she was sure the hat had some sort of amusing (and knowing Jack, probably sordid) story. But the compass...what did the compass have to do with her? Perhaps if she could ..._borrow_ it from Jack, she might be able to find some answers...

And then there was the enigmatic plot points she'd dreamt about; the ones that were nestled inside her bodice. Perhaps if they were worth something, she could barter with the pirate...

Purposefully, Elizabeth straightened her plain cotton skirts and brushed the slightly sweaty, wayward wisps of hair back from her temples in an attempt to make herself more presentable. "Right then, _Captain_ Sparrow!' she said with determination to herself. "You may be a clever fox, but prepare to meet _this _bold swan..!"

Feeling suitably heroic, Elizabeth made to open the door again and slip out into the hall. That was when she noticed him. Turning her head slowly, Elizabeth felt her cheeks flush with embarrassment as she saw an elderly man sitting in his cot looking rather surprised to see her. Elizabeth smiled politely, and made a little curtsey.

Mr. Cotton gave her a wide, toothless grin.

------------------------------------------------------------------

**F**unny things, parrots.

For a bird that spends most of it's time squawking, scavenging and generally making a nuisance of itself it exasperated Jack immensely that even on a ship as glorious as the Black Pearl, they still relied on the feathered fiend to tell them how far off shore they were.

Squawking...scavenging...preening.

Jack cocked an eyebrow at the bird as it ruffled its feathers importantly, and ceased his own preening to take a more _me hearty! _stance as he kept one jeweled hand on the ship's wheel. Now and then he would bark down orders from his place on High, relishing the way his crew scrambled about to do his bidding as though he were the Prince of Siam. Mr. Cotton's parrot, who now went by the name _John Silver_ due to the beasts liking for anything silvery in nature, was also flying around the masts and ducking beneath rat lines, squawking importantly.

Jack frowned at the interloping bird. Now that he came to think of it, a pirate had a lot in common with a parrot.

Disquieting, that.

"I'm tellin' ye Jack...it's bad luck bringin' a woman onboard. Especially such an...unpredictable one." Gibbs griped for the umpteenth time that morning. Jack leaned towards his first mate, and smiled greedily like a Cheshire cat with great ambitions. "Ah, yet it is because of this unpredictability that we will be able to predict our desired course...of course."

"Of course, Cap'n..." Gibbs muttered, his head still foggy from the previous night. As much as the old sailor had come to appreciate his rather eccentric Captain's company, sharing a cot with him had definitely over stepped that patience. Jack was a light sleeper. It had taken him until well into the early morning before he'd managed to fall into a light doze, at which point Gibbs was red eyed and ready to throttle his Captain senseless. He also snored. And when he wasn't snoring, he was muttering to himself in his sleep-- yet this in itself didn't surprise Gibbs. It was well known that Jack had an...unique ability to think fast on his feet (or from whatever awkward position he might be in at the time). No doubt Jack often kept right on thinking even when he was asleep, yet what had unsettled Gibbs as he'd lain with his arms crossed, compressed against the wall (Jack had commandeered the rest of the cot), was the fact that he couldn't make head nor tail of the gibberish Jack was speaking. It certainly didn't sound like the English he was familiar with.

Now and then, Jack would call out in this strange language as if he were calling to someone, or asking for something. Knowing that it was bad luck to wake a man whilst was he was dreaming, Gibbs had endured the Captain's unintelligible monologue until the first bell of morning echoed down from above deck. Jack had bolted upright like a man possessed at the sound of the hollow bell, his eyes wide and not a trace of sleep lingering about his person. "Elizabeth," he'd muttered urgently, as if by simply saying the girl's name she would somehow obey and appear before him. Gibbs had barely restrained a sleep deprived groan.

"Sleep well, Captain...?" he'd asked hoarsely, his voice laced with resentment.

"Eh? Sleep? Oh, aye. Like a babe."

'_Aye, and how like a babe too...' _Gibbs thought darkly to himself, remembering Jack's snoring and drooling. He'd thought briefly about asking Jack if he knew any strange languages-- he knew Jack had been to the East, and perhaps he'd just been revisiting some of his old conquests. However, he never got the chance seeing as Jack had immediately jumped from the bed, grabbing up his hat and plunking it on his head before striding for the door. He paused then, and as if in afterthought spun around to regard Gibbs once more. "Have you ever seen anything..._unusual _in nature onboard the Pearl? And by unusual I mean ...any cryptic symbols? Numerals? Drawings? Any hidden compartments?"

Gibbs blinked blearily. "I...well...that is to say..." Gibbs floundered, having not the slightest clue as to what the Captain was talking about. "No, I can't say I have."

Jack frowned, his expression calculating. "Oh."

Gibbs narrowed his blood shot eyes, his brain struggling to piece together the scattered fragments of logic behind Jack's questions. "Ye think there's something valuable onboard the Pearl? Something that we don't know about? Something that's hidden?"

Jack gazed at Gibbs with the same mysterious expression he'd worn when he'd first told Gibbs of his foolhardy plan to re-take the Black Pearl from the mutinous Barbossa. It gave Gibbs the shivers. Jack hadn't answered his questions, and instead had insisted upon calling for the young lady to meet with him immediately. Gibbs now stood with Jack on the quarterdeck, awaiting said lady to arrive with great apprehension. After all, hadn't she tried to accost Jack with blunt objects the last time they'd been in each other's company? Yet Jack bore no signs of this disasterous reunion-- he was too immersed now in studying his compass as if it held the secrets of life.

"Why do ye suppose the compass won't give us the heading we need? I'm sure that would make all our lives more...bearable." Gibbs said with a slight shudder, mentally counter-cursing the potential bad omens the woman's presence could cause. John Silver chose that precise moment to swoop past. _"It's broken, it's broken!" _he squawked tauntingly. Jack didn't seem to hear Gibbs, nor the bird for he merely turned the compass upside down and gazed down his nose at it appraisingly. Giving it a sharp _tap tap!_ with his ringed index finger, he then swept his hand back expectantly. Gibbs observed him like a child watching a magician perform an astonishing trick. When Jack finally spoke he did so without looking up at his second mate. "Unfortunately, it would seem that alternative has proved to be_ not_ so much an alternative as a dead end." Jack explained, snapping the compass shut and giving it an enthusiastic shake. Holding it out before him as if it were a live snake that could suddenly strike at any moment he whipped out his hand and flipped it open again.

Peering down at it, Jack's eyes widened as Gibbs looked on with interest.

"Well...?" Gibbs asked with baited breath.

"A _very_ dead end." Jack concluded dryly.

Gibbs felt his very bones sink. Perhaps he was getting too old for this. He twitched slightly as he felt Jack clap a hand on his shoulder in an unusual show of affection. "Leave it to me, mate. Soon we'll be so rich even the King 'imself will be kneeling at our feet."

"Yes..." came a voice which made both men whip about in alarm. This particular voice was a phenomenon neither was used to-- for it was very feminine in nature. Feminine, and determined. Gibbs counter-cursed. Jack's hand settled protectively around his bottle of mid-morning rum.

"...although it will be difficult to see said King kneeling in all worship at your feet Captain Sparrow, if you are hanging by your neck in Port Royal."

Jack's wince at the meaning of her words quickly smoothed into a jovial grin. "Charming, as always. Welcome above deck, Liz--" he began with a grand sweep of his arm.

"Miss Swan," Elizabeth corrected him sharply. It was at that precise moment that Jack realized she was carrying a bundle of ropes and a tackle knife.

"Ah. So we're back to basics, are we love? Well then, _Miss_ Swan...I do believe I summoned you quite some time ago..."

Jack saw Elizabeth's eyes narrow. 'Uh-oh. Not good. _Why, Jack? _Why must you constantly provoke the woman when she's armed?' his more logical half protested. His childish half however, simply made a rude gesture and continued on it's reckless course.

"Who said you could have those?" he asked pointing to the ropes and tackle sternly, his expression that of an irate school master accusing an untrustworthy student. Elizabeth tipped her chin upwards proudly. "Mr. Cotton saw fit to put my skills to use while I'm being held hostage. You should be thankful Jack. I suppose I could just spend my time in your cabin--"

Jack's eyes widened in alarm at the prospect of having to spend another night in a bunker the size of a match box. "No no! By all means, slave away. After all, I don't see what harm you could possibly--"

"Harm..?..!" Elizabeth burst, enraged. The absolute_ gall _of the man! Insufferable! It was nearly impossible for her to believe that _this _was the man who had written that letter...

He was insensitive, brash...! He was striding towards her. Instinctively, Elizabeth's hand flew to her bodice as if he were about to summon the secret letter from it's depths by the mere intensity of his gaze. "You're a brute, and a liar!" she accused.

"And _you _should be thankful I'm a magnanimous captor, and not giving you rooms in the brig!"

"You wouldn't _dare...!"_

"Lucky me; you don't have to be daring to be a brute."

Gibbs shifted awkwardly on the spot, inherently uncomfortable with the sparks that were ricocheting off the masts.

"Then I suppose I needn't have bothered saving your hide back in Port Royal--" Elizabeth began hotly.

"You save mine, I save yours. I've become highly acquainted with your hide, missy; particularly because it keeps falling on my more noble persuasions." Jack countered, yet there was a husky edge to his voice that made her feel as though she'd just been scandalized. Elizabeth's cheeks flushed, but not with anger. The paper-- Jack's impromptu letter seemed to be burning against her bare skin. Her lips parted as she was swallowed in his dark gaze-- and she felt her limbs tremble. It was as though his words which were pressed against her breasts were somehow undeniably an extension of his heated gaze and his hands which were flexing at his sides restlessly.

It was a warm, delicious sensation. It made her want to do something bold, something that she'd no doubt regret...

She wanted Jack. She wanted his mischievous grin, his expressive eyes...even the hat.

'_What are you doing, you fool..?...!' _her sensible half admonished. '_The compass! You have to steal-- I mean, 'borrow' his compass! And no, not **that** compass... honestly, since when have you become such a perv--' _Elizabeth's cheeks burned even more brightly as she realized the full extent of her immediate physical reaction to the pirate. Unnerved by her sudden withdrawal from their argument, Jack pushed his apprehensions aside and leapt on the opportunity he'd been waiting for ever since his feverish dreams the night before. Sweeping his arm in the direction of the double mahogany doors that lead to the Captain's cabin, Jack bowed his head genteelly as if they had not just been shouting at each other like children.

"If the lady will permit to being in this humble pirate's company...we have matters to discuss."

Elizabeth, her limbs still slightly shaken from her sudden urge to either hurl him over board or ravish him where he stood, simply gazed at him.

Jack swept his arm again in the direction of the cabin, his expression expectant.

'_You shouldn't become entangled with him again...you heard what Pintel said! What does it matter if he needs something from you? Whatever it is, it's most likely something you'll regret giving!' _

Yet even as Elizabeth agreed whole heartedly with her reliable, sensible half...the weight of his letter nestled against her chest was like an anchor, making it impossible for her to cut ties with him and float away. Besides, she needed that compass. With an air of great dignity, Elizabeth tipped her chin into the air and strode past Jack without so much as looking at him. Jack frowned as she past by his gallant gesture without so much as a nod. Sweeping up beside her, he leaned in close enough to catch the scent of her skin, and the tickle of her hair. He grinned, brimming with masculine satisfaction when he saw the tops of her breasts rise as she drew in a sharp breath. His hand was hovering just above her clasped ones, but instead of the touch she was expecting he reached past her to open the door.

"Milady..." he murmured, low enough so that only she could catch the twinkle and insinuation in the word. Tearing her eyes from his intrusive gaze, Elizabeth gathered her wits which were still scattered about his feet and strode into the room. She would show him. She would be bold. Brave...daring...! She would...

Elizabeth heard the drag and click of a lock being set into place. Her heart fluttering like a frightened bird in her throat, Elizabeth turned a questioning gaze on the pirate.

"Now then..." he drawled, his intense gaze pinning her to the spot. "Time's up, love. You have something I need, and I want it. _Now_."

Elizabeth gave a slight gasp, the air rushing from her lungs as a powerful wave of desire engulfed her at the husky edge which returned to his voice. She should have been furious. After all, she was confident now that the little piece of paper on which she'd written those coordinates and then tucked into her bodice was worth more to Jack than...her freedom. He was selfish, and now he was threatening her like any proper, merciless red blooded pirate should. Yet Elizabeth couldn't help but see the passion of his written words in his threats.

_...that I, being selfish and rash in nature..._

He was gazing at her greedily, hungrily-- but there was no mistaking it. His gaze had dropped a fraction, and was now fixed on her mouth.

_...will give you, Elizabeth who is valiant and also oh, so rash, one kiss..._

She _was _valiant. She wasn't afraid of the legendary black-hearted rogue-- and she _was_ rash, because she somehow knew without a doubt that come hell or high water, she was going to kiss him. She wanted it-- now. Deciding to take matters into her own hands (quite literally), Elizabeth crossed the distance between them and pressed the length of her body flush with his.

Jack's eyes popped.

Elizabeth felt like purring.

'_Oh dear...'_

Perhaps his letter _had _effected her a little more than she was willing to admit.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Lizzie--"

Jack felt his back hit the closed door.

'_Oh my...'_

His eyes, which until that point had been desperately seeking an escape were suddenly transfixed-- Elizabeth was moistening her lips, slowly...delicately. He watched with growing agitation as her gaze then dropped, the hunger unmistakable as she looked at his mouth.

Jack gulped.

"Please, Jack..." she whispered huskily, the sweet yearning in her voice making his resolve-- and his knees quaver. The light, floral scent that always accompanied her washed over his senses, making his mouth go slack and his eyes drift shut languidly.

"Mmm?" he questioned feigning confusion, but his voice cracked like a school boy's under the pressure of his growing arousal. _No, no no! _This was definitely _not _what he'd been anticipating...! _He _was supposed to be in charge! He needed those coordinates, and he'd been prepared to get them by any means necessary. A little rum. A little finely tuned persuasion perhaps...but certainly not...

"Please..." she breathed.

Jack felt his blood run hot. Yet on the other hand...

Their mouths were just inches apart. All he had to do was lean forwards-- and take what she was offering him. Somewhere, deep in the back waters of his mind someone who sounded suspiciously like Gibbs stated with great wisdom; _never trust a woman, Jack. Or if you do, make sure you're too bloody drunk to know the difference._

_Hm. _He really did have to cease remembering the old sailors pearls of wisdom-- for they rarely did him any good.

Speaking of good...

...her warm breath tickled his skin, her lips so full and so soft he could almost taste it.

Sweet, silken...

Oh buggar it.

He'd never wanted anything more in his life.

Elizabeth shivered with pleasure as she felt his hands brush up the length of her arms to rest lightly on her shoulders; as though he were examining the finest satin. Laying her hands against his chest, she could feel the rapid beating of his heart beneath her palms. His eyes burned as his hands rose to cup her face. There was a curious lack of words between them, yet Elizabeth did not mind the exchange of insults for rough, labored breaths. She also couldn't help a little thrill of triumph; she had slipped past his guard-- _she_ had rendered _him_ speechless.

However, Captain Sparrow parried her new found confidence with something she had not expected-- tenderness. His touch was so gentle, so reverent. Elizabeth couldn't help the blissful sigh that escaped her lips.

_Touché._

"Need I remind you, milady that _you_ are _my_ hostage?"

Contrary to his tentative touch, carnal tension rolled from his voice in one, thick wave. It seeped through her skin, sending electric coils of desire shooting right down to her toes. She had never felt so magnetically attracted to someone before, and she knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that all pretense had been swept away.

She wanted him to kiss her.

Turning her head slightly, she kissed the hard edge of his palm. She heard his sharp intake of breath-- his gaze which had been hesitant suddenly clearing to reveal a fathomless blaze of lust. "But you promised..." Elizabeth found herself saying softly as his fierce gaze drew the truth from her effortlessly. "You promised to kiss me..."

Jack felt his body moving of it's own accord as he tilted his head to the side, the feel of her soft lips touching his hand, her round eyes gazing at him imploringly tearing what little argument he had to shreds. So distracted was he by the feel of her lips, he didn't quite fathom the meaning behind her words.

Kiss. Lizzie? Yes, please and thank you.

"I did promise, didn't I...?" he admitted, his voice like a rumble of thunder that made Elizabeth shiver. Jack couldn't help but savor the swell of masculine pride he felt at her trembles.

_She _wanted _him. _And this time, he wouldn't disappoint. "And I..." he said more deeply than she imagined possible, "...am a man of my word."

She felt his bottom lip brush against hers. Feverish with the need to feel all of him, feel him fully against her mouth she gave a soft moan. Suddenly, instead of receiving the kiss she ached for she felt his fingers gently tracing the sides of her face and jaw. Confused, she opened her eyes to look at him questioningly.

He was watching her.

His expression was one she had never seen him wear before-- his face showing none of the cocky satisfaction she 'd come to expect. Instead, he was gazing at her with such earnestness that it made her realize something; he'd wrote her that letter long before he'd known he needed her help. Elizabeth marveled. For an instant, his gaze making her feel warm and tender she wondered...was it possible he'd told her the truth? Could he really love her? The sensuous stroking of his fingers, their calloused tips causing delicious shivers to twirl within her stomach and breasts prevented her from dwelling on this revelation. Jack tilted his head back, his gaze softening as she'd never seen it before.

"You're beautiful," he said, so quietly it was more of a raspy whisper. His thumb brushed across her lower lip, and Jack took full advantage of it's fullness. It was torture. He was torturing himself in the cruelest way possible, and he had no idea what was stopping him from putting an end to his suffering. Then, he saw it. There within her eyes, the confusion dissipating for a moment and the first glimmering of understanding shining faintly within their depths.

Jack felt a hand close around his heart and squeeze unmercifully.

_Ah; female intuition; not good._

Elizabeth saw something tighten within his face, as if the channel of emotion she'd felt pouring from him was suddenly closing off. His hands dropped from her face to grasp her shoulders, his touch suddenly stiff and artless. "Jack...?" she asked, the confusion in her voice causing him to turn away from her. Why couldn't he simply let her go? As if to prove to himself that he could, his hands slipped begrudgingly from her shoulders, severing all contact between them once more.

_There we go, Jack ol' boy. Nice n' easy..._

And that's when it hit him like a strategically swung hammer.

'_You promised...'_

The letter.

That demandable, god forsaken letter.

_...Oh no_.

Elizabeth, her mind still foggy with confused, thrumming desire felt herself jangled as Jack suddenly regarded her as though she were about eighty-feet tall, and waving large tentacles at him menacingly. Whipping around, he unbolted the door and with a rattle of beads and jingle of jewels, he sped out of the cabin as if it were on fire. Elizabeth made to follow him, but the door snapped shut in her face. Slowly, the haze lifted. Realization sunk in. He'd fled.

So much for the interrogation. With a enraged puff, Elizabeth swung the door open.

And now, she was going to kill him.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Jack burst into his bed chambers-- his eyes wide and searching as though expecting a surprise attack from one of the bed pillows that lay on the floor. Then, his gaze settled on his writing desk.

His eyes narrowed.

Approaching it slowly, he peered down at it's messy surface apprehensively. His quill and ink bottle lay open, and to his increasing alarm it looked as though someone had shuffled through his papers.

_Bloody hell._

Jack pounced.

The poor writing desk never knew what hit it. Papers flew into the air as Jack feverishly searched for the familiar crumpled pages he'd written over two months ago. His fist slammed down against the wood as he realized that to his mortification, they were no longer there. Which could only mean...

Elizabeth.

Jack cringed, wanting nothing better than to beat his more poetically inclined half to a bloody pulp. Yet suddenly a voice from the doorway told him _he _wouldn't have to. No, he'd be treated with a sound lashing from a pair of much softer...much more enticing hands.

"Looking for this...?" Elizabeth asked in that sweet, lilting way of hers that always left Jack pining.

Clenching his eyes shut for a brief moment of prayer --_God, Shiva, Ra, Buddha...anyone!..?--_ Jack turned slowly from the desk to face the source of his misery. She stood in the doorway, his crumpled letter clutched in her hand.

Jack gulped.

"Or perhaps...you're looking for this?" she said, her voice becoming suddenly devoid of feminine affectations...

...and becoming that of a pirate with an advantage.

Elizabeth had something else in her other hand. Something small, box-like and _very _familiar. Instinctually, Jack's hand rose to clap over his left breast pocket. A pocket that was now empty. His heart, absentee little blighter that it was took this moment to freeze in his chest as dread flooded through him.

Her hands. Her hands had been resting on his chest...her mouth had been the perfect distraction...

"And now, Captain Sparrow," Elizabeth continued, holding up the compass before his wide eyes.

"I believe you were saying that I have something you want..."

She smiled.

"Let's see if we can come to an understanding, shall we?"

**TBC...!**

A/N: Thanks for reading! I know I'll probably end up re-editing this, but I wanted to keep my promise and post. I don't know if I like it, and I can't help thinking something was off. Eeep. Suggestions are most welcome!


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